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.