Send them home tenderly, The sleepers at rest, With hands meekly folded On each silent breast; Let them come back to slumber Beneath northern skies, Where true hearts may weep oer them, And prayer incense rise. Send them home tenderly, The noble and true, Scarce gone from their hearthstones -- Scarce whispered "Adieu" Gone forth for their country, Its rights to sustain, But, all bleeding and lifeless, Returning again. Send them home tenderly, Our martyr'd and brave, With the stripes and stars round them, All robed for the grave. Bereaved mothers shall clasp them In pride to their breast, And the good of our nation Shall weep where they rest. Send them home tenderly, Each wound gaping wide Shall send myriads of voices From the dark purple tide; And strong hands shall be grasping The bright, unsheath'd sword, With fresh fervor to battle For right and the Lord.

The Home Front