IN MEMORIAM

Two hundred times has June renewed

Her roses since the day

When here, amid the lonely wood,

Our fathers met to pray.

Beside this gentle stream that strayed

Through pathless deserts then,

The calm, heroic women prayed,

And grave, undaunted men.

Hymns on the ancient silence broke

From hearts that faltered not,

And undissembling lips that spoke

The free and guileless thought.

They prayed, and thanked the Almighty One

Who made their hearts so strong,

And led them, towards the setting sun,

Beyond the reach of wrong.

He made for them that desert place

A pleasant heritage,

The cradle of a free-born race,

From peaceful age to age.

The plant they set- a little vine-

Has stretched its boughs afar,

To distant hills and streams that shine

Beneath the evening star.

Their fields are ours- these fields that smile

With summer’s early flowers;

Oh, let their fearless’ scorn of guile,

And love of truth, be ours.