The noble ruins of men lie buried here.
You were strong men, good men.
Endowed with youth and much the will to live
I hear no protest from the mute lips of the dead.
They rest; there is more to give.
So long my comrades,
Sleep ye where you fell upon the field.
But tread softly please
March o'er my heart with ease
March on and on,
But to G-d alone we kneel.