Oh, where shall we scatter our flowers to-day,
The lingering treasures of beautiful May.
That creep thro' the verdure of earth's tender breast
To garland again where our loved heroes rest?
Shall we strew them once more o'er the graves of our old,
Loyal braves whose blest ashes are crumbling in mold,
Or beside the swift waters where proudly they sank,
Long ago to gain Freedom in glorious rank?
Or shall we enwreathe them by trenches afar,
Or cast them o'er red waves—'mid many a scar—
Where pride of our nation on soil and the deep
Have sunk unto silence of hallowed sleep?
Ah, let us bestow them—aye, everywhere
The gleam of our banners a solace doth bear,
In memory sweet of the old braves and new
Who fought and yet battle for victories true.
ANNIE M. TOOHEY.
Troy Times. May 29, 1918
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