The finest tribute we can
Unto our hero dead to-day,
Is not a rose wreath, white and red,
In memory of the blood they shed;
It is to stand beside each mound,
Each couch of consecrated ground,
And pledge ourselves as warriors
Unto the work they died to do.
Into God's valleys where they
At rest, beneath the open sky,
Triumphant now o'er every foe,
As living tributes let us go.
No wreath of rose or
Or spoken word or tolling
Will do to-day, unless we
Our pledge that liberty shall live.
Our hearts must be the roses
We place above our hero dead;
To-day beside their graves we
Renew allegiance to their trust;
Must bare our heads and humbly
We hold the Flag as dear as they,
And stand, as once they stood, to
To keep the Stars and Stripes on high.
The finest tribute we can
Unto our hero dead
Is not of speech or roses red,
But living, throbbing hearts instead,
That shall renew the pledge they
With death upon the battlefield:
That freedom's flag shall bear no
And free men wear no tyrant's chain.
Taken from Just Folks by Edgar A
Published by The Reilly & Lee Co.,
Chicago,
Pages 47-48
