"No More the Thunder of Cannon"

No more the thunder of cannon,No more the clashing of swords,No more the rage of the contest,Nor the rush of contending hordes;But, instead, the glad reunion,The clasping of friendly hands,The song, for the shout of battle,Heard over the waiting lands.

O brothers, to-night we greet youWith smiles, half sad, half gay—For our thoughts are flying backwardTo the years so far away—When with you who were part of the conflict,With us who remember it all,Youth marched with his waving banner,And his voice like a bugle call!

We would not turn back the dial,Nor live over the past again;We would not the path re-travel,Nor barter the "now" for the "then."Yet, oh, for the bounding pulses,And the strength to do and dare,When life was one grand endeavor,And work clasped hands with prayer!

But blessed are ye, O brothers,Who feel in your souls alwayThe thrill of the stirring summonsYou heard but to obey;Who, whether the years go swift,Or whether the years go slow,Will wear in your hearts foreverThe glory of long ago!