Whatever the splendors and joys of to-day,
Whatever the flowers that may flash in our way,
Whatever our joy at assembling once more,
Though God in his love grant the same o'er and o'er,
We will always remember, with sweet love bestowed,
The names of those comrades who fell on the road.
The flags of our triumphs shall droop at half mast,
For those whom the future claimed out of the past!
Not as youths now we meet, but grave women and men;
'Mid bright summer days, we must soon part again.