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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.