They were such an heritage to behold
The son of our Son's sons.
The culture we have them was everlasting cogent.
We have them good outfits and language. ...
DEAD, with their eyes to the foe,
Dead, with the foe at their feet;
Under the sky laid low
Truly their slumber is sweet,
Though the wind from the Camp of the
Slain Men blow,
And the rain on the wilderness beat.