NOT with the anguish of hearts that are breaking br Come we as mourners to weep for our dead; br Grief in our breasts has grown weary of aching, br Green is the turf where our tears we have shed. br br While o'er their marbles the mosses are creeping, br Stealing each name and its legend away, br Give their proud story to Memory's keeping, br Shrined in the temple we hallow to-day.