Brave soldier dead, may our presence speak
Of the tender memories borne
Of thee, while with bowed head meek,
We greet on this May day morn.
Flowers of Hope, and Peace, and Trust,
We lay them at thy feet,
Humble offerings to the dust
Of a sacrifice so complete.
Of the tender memories borne
Of thee, while with bowed head meek,
We greet on this May day morn.
Flowers of Hope, and Peace, and Trust,
We lay them at thy feet,
Humble offerings to the dust
Of a sacrifice so complete.
So gather them in, all the beautiful flowers,
Prepare them with kind, loving hand;
Scatter them wide o'er these graves of ours—
Our boys, all over the land.
Sacred the trust to us hath been given,
Keep it with prayerful heart;
Sometime, we know the hearts now riven
Will join, with a never-to-part.
Prepare them with kind, loving hand;
Scatter them wide o'er these graves of ours—
Our boys, all over the land.
Sacred the trust to us hath been given,
Keep it with prayerful heart;
Sometime, we know the hearts now riven
Will join, with a never-to-part.
The Unsung Song.
It's in every heart, this unsung song,
Whose windows are open wide
To catch the key from the warbling bird
Or the moan of the coming tide.
Whose windows are open wide
To catch the key from the warbling bird
Or the moan of the coming tide.
—23—
