Sleep sweetly in your humble graves
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause!
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.
In seeds of laurel in the earth
The blossom of your fame is blown,
And somewhere, waiting for its birth
The shaft is in the stone!
Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years
Which keep in trust your storied tombs,
Behold! your stories bring their tears,
And these memorial blooms.
Small tributes! But your shades will smile
More proudly on these wreaths today
Than when some cannon-olded pile
Shall overlook this bay.
Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!
There is no holier spot of ground
Than where defeated valor lies,
By mourning beauty crowned.