THE PATRIOT DEAD
No tears for them!—they never knew
The shrinking, coward pain
Of hearts that know a fetter's weight,
And beat beneath a chain;
They hallowed with their earliest breath
The land for which they bled;
Chant honor's paean-note to Death
Above the patriot dead.
No tears for them!—the lofty-toned!
The beautiful! the high!
There is no sorrow in the voice
That summons such to die.
Oh! loop our country's ensign where
Its starry folds may spread
The glory that they died to guard,
Above the patriot dead.
The beautiful! the high!
There is no sorrow in the voice
That summons such to die.
Oh! loop our country's ensign where
Its starry folds may spread
The glory that they died to guard,
Above the patriot dead.
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