Marching On

I     I heard the young lads singing     In the still morning air,     Gaily the notes came ringing     Across the lilac'd square;     They sang like happy children     Who know not doubt or care,     "As WE GO MARCHING ON."     And each one sloped a rifle     And each one bore a pack;     They had no grief to stifle,     No tears to weep, alack;     They were too blithe to question     Which of them should come back,     As they went marching on.     II     Oh, thou whose eyes are sorrow,     And whose soul is sorrowing,     Who knowest that each to-morrow     A deeper woe may bring,     And knowest that all the comfort     Is the very littlest thing     While they go marching on;     These sons of thine seek glory,     As the bridegroom seeks the bride,     And who shall tell the story     Of their triumph and their pride?     Like lovers, for the love of thee     They have lain them down and died;     And they go marching on.     III     They march by field and city,     By every road and way,     A march which angels pity     And none may stop or stay     Till the last head is rested     On the last crimson clay;     So they go marching on!     They march in the broad sunlight     And by the lovers' moon,     Into the flame and gun-light     From morns and eves of June,     And Death for their entrancd feet     Pipes an obsequious tune,     And keeps them marching on.     IV     And mid the battle thunder,     And in the fields of blood,     They see the untarnished wonder,     The healing, and the good     Which passeth understanding     And can not be understood;     And they go marching on.     They see the rose's brightness     Made perfect and complete,     Lilies and snows of whiteness,     And wings of gold that beat     For ever and for ever     Before the Paraclete;     And they go marching on.