HARVARD'S DEAD

They fought on many a crimsoned field;
They sleep in many a glen;
They marched to glory and to death,
And came not home again:
But Science claims them for her roll, —
Her roll of honored men.

Some in the sunny days of youth,
And some in ripening age,
Went forth, with valiant hearts and hopes,
To breast the conflict's rage;
And history every name records
On her immortal page.

Weep at the shrines where once they knelt,
And where the heroes sleep;
Weep where the funeral pomp proceeds;
At vacant firesides, weep.
When did thy sickle, mighty Death,
So precious harvests reap?

And sing a paean o'er their dust,
A requiem for the brave;
Sing hymns of cheerful melody
Above each soldier's grave;
In solemn joy, with festal folds,
Let the old banners wave.

Freedom on every bloody field,
Through them, new triumphs won;
Her honored wreaths are on the brow
Of every favorite son;
And age is reckoned, not by years,
But deeds of valor done

While Fame inscribes ten thousand names
Along her pillared nave,
Of patriot-sons, and sires who sleep
In Glory's star-gemmed grave,
Of all the list fair Science claims
The bravest of the brave.