Sleep sweetly in your humble graves, br Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause; br Though yet no marble column craves br The pilgrim here to pause. br br In seeds of laurels in the earth, br The blossom of your fame is blown, br And, somewhere, waiting for its birth, br The shaft is in the stone. br br Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years br Which keep in trust your storied tombs, br Behold! your sisters bring their tears, br And these memorial blooms. br br Small tributes, but your shades will smile br As proudly on these wreaths to-day, br As when some cannon-moulded pile br Shall overlook this Bay.