In Decoration By Mary N. Robinson Good Housekeeping, May 24, 1890. p. 31.
Let us gather the sweetest of flowers-- The violet, fragrant and blue, The fairest and stateliest lilies, And roses of loveliest hue; Let us twine them in wreaths and in garlands, In cross and in anchor and crown; And on the low graves of our comrades We lay them in reverence down.
There Time, with the tenderest fingers Has bidden the soft grasses wave, And the wild flowers blossom in beauty Above every slumberer's grave.-- The robin sings there his gay carols-- All voices of Nature are heard, And daily their music upriseth From breeze and from bee and from bird.
She cares not if moss or if marble Or naught mark the place of their rest-- On each fall the tears of the raindrops, She keepeth each safe in her breast.-- Her daisies unfold their white petals Alike o'er the high and the low; In verdure she hides them in summer, In winter she gives them her snow.
We come with our garlands in Springtime To deck the low mounds where they lie, Yet Nature, our mother, is kinder For never she passes them by! We come with our bands and our music But once, and perchance with a tear, But the songs and the sighing of Nature Never cease through the circling year!
Our garlands will fade and will whither, Her's blossom anew with the Spring; Our songs must die out into silence, Her anthems more joyously ring! With those whose low mounds we're adorning In a dreamless sleep must we share, And the tender arms of our mother Enfold us with like loving care.--
Sound, music! with saddest of dirges! Ring, bugles! with softest of notes! And comrades, while gently their sighing In sweetest of harmony floats-- Come forth, with cross, and with crown, And on the low graves of our brothers, Oh, lay them in reverence down!