This is the day of dauntless memories,
Hours that live turn back to deathless hours,
But sheltered in my heart there lies,
As in a grave,
A memory serene and brave
That needs no flowers.

No valiant tale to stir the blood to wine —
Dear enemy that struck at me and fled! —
And yet the victory was mine,
As mine the pain,
And still my heart resounds its gain,
Its cherished dead.