Triumphant Sable Heroes homeward turning,
Arrayed in medals, bright, and half-healed scars,
Has service, life, and limb been given earning
Trophies, issued at the hand of Mars?

If your sole gain has been these 'marks of battle,'
If valient deeds insure no greater claim,
If you are still to be the herder's cattle,
Then ill spilt blood fell short of Freedom's aim.

Democracy means more than empty letters,
And Liberty far more than partly free;
Yet, both are void as long as men, in fetters,
Are at eclipse with Opportunity.