To fight aloud, is very brave --
   But gallanter, I know
 Who charge within the bosom
   The Calvary of Wo --

Who win, and nations do not see --
   Who fall -- and none observe --
 Whose dying eyes, no Country
   Regards with patriot love --

We trust, in plumed procession
   For such, the Angels go --
 Rank after Rank, with even feet --
   And Uniforms of snow.