They sang of love, and not of fame; Forgot was Britain's glory; Each heart recalled a different name, But all sang Annie Lawrie. - Bayard Taylor

The hollows are heavy and dank With the steam of the Goldenrods.

Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest Your truth and valor wearing: The bravest are the tenderest,—
The loving are the daring.

Once let the Angel blow! — A peal from the parted heaven, The first of seven! For the time is come that was foretold So long ago! As the avalanche gathers, huge and cold, From the down of the harmless snow, The years and the ages gather and hang Till the day when the word is spoken: When they that dwell in the end of time Are smitten alike for the early crime, As the vials of wrath are broken!