waiting for news.
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And the strife that rages so
Burns out meanness from the land.
Men must fall, and blood must flow,
That our Plants of Honor grow
Unto stature grand.
Burns out meanness from the land.
Men must fall, and blood must flow,
That our Plants of Honor grow
Unto stature grand.
Ay, to-day it seems to me,
That yon little straggling rose
Fed by War's red springs must be:
All of fair and good I see,
Out of anguish grows.
That yon little straggling rose
Fed by War's red springs must be:
All of fair and good I see,
Out of anguish grows.
Vines that shade the cottage-home;
Laurels for the warrior's wreath;
Lilies of white peace, that bloom
After battle's lurid gloom; —
All are nursed by death.
Laurels for the warrior's wreath;
Lilies of white peace, that bloom
After battle's lurid gloom; —
All are nursed by death.
By our bond, I 'm close to-day
As your sword is, to your side.
If your breath stops in the fray,
Watchers from above will say,
Two for freedom died.
As your sword is, to your side.
If your breath stops in the fray,
Watchers from above will say,
Two for freedom died.
