Are there men who will cherish their country’s last breath?
Are there three hundred thousand who love—to the death?
Hark!—the answering cry to that agonized call—
And the Latin-School boys are the foremost of all!
We have proved we’ve a banner, a country, a God,
By thousands of arguments—under the sod!
Who knows if the dear boys who fell in the fight
May not hold their reunion, as we do, to-night?
From the morning-land fair, and a rest never ending,
Their voices, well-loved, with our own still are blending;