Isabella Valancy Crawford

“ There is not a lad that treads in the gallant ranks
Who does not already bear on his breast the Rose of a Nation's Thanks!
A Welcome? There is not a babe at the breast won't spring at the roll of the drum
That heralds them home—the keen, long cry in the air of 'They Come! ”

“ As our men march over them home again; the walls of the city ring
With the thunder of throats and the tramp and tread of feet that rush and run?—
I think in my heart that the very trees must shout for the bold work done! ”