How quietly beneath the quiet sky
These men are sleeping who shall never wake!
But soon the plough, the harrow, and the rake
Shall pass them as I pass unheeded by;
For underneath the fallows they will lie
Who front to foe -- good seed for Freedom's sake --
Have fallen, and those who here their harvest make
Will wonder at the richness of the rye.

But He Who lets no single sparrow fall
Unnoted, unremembered, in His care
Has garnered all their great self-sacrifice;
And though too 'soon in tender earth there lies
-- Till crack of doom -- each body made so fair,
A happier world shall be memorial.