Page:Poems Bass.djvu/30

For sacred is the hallowed spot where fairest blossoms bloom,
And where our starry banner waves above the soldiers tomb.

Dead on the field of battle, in nameless graves they lie,
A host of gallant comrades 'neath a tender southern sky;
And no man knows the number or beheld them as they fell,
Or hopes to pierce the silence where they now so calmly dwell.

Dead on the field of battle,—on Freedom's holy shrine,
But Honor's hand shall point us to their monument divine,
A catafalque of glory that abides above the brave,
This great and growing Union they so freely died to save

Dead on the field of battle, the battlefield of life.
Unmindful of its turmoil and the ceaseless din of strife;