To fight aloud, is very brave -
But gallanter, I know
Who charge within the bosom
The Cavalry of Woe -
Who win, and nations do not see -
Who fall - and none observe -
Whose dying eyes, no Country
Regards with patriot love -
We trust, in plumed procession
For such, the Angels go -
Rank after Rank, with even feet -
And Uniforms of snow
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