All things are mutable! The years recede,
And our vast shroud of smoke and flame must pass!
Another age with other eyes shall read
The moment's history; as thro' a glass,
It shall behold our striving and our toil,
Dissect the cause and calculate the gain.
Prating upon futility of wars,
Traverse for holiday the hallow'd soil
Where now our slain
Lie, with their shatter'd faces to the stars.

Some there shall be, with restless hearts and bold,
Who, wrapp'd in ease, shall envy us the life
Of changing scenes and perils manifold,
Casting a gloss of glory on our strife.
But will no gleam last lambent thro' the years
Of squalor, pain, unending weariness,
Borne for a vision, dim descried but sure,
That by our agony and by our tears
Concord shall bless
Our land, and they, our sons, shall dwell secure?