| "Silent the shades of evening | |
| Gather round our lonely door, | |
| Silently there comes before us | |
| Faces we shall see no more, | |
| Oh, the lost, the unforgotten, | |
| Tough the world be all forgot, | |
| Oh, the shrouded and the buried, | |
| In our hearts they parish not." | |
| W. R. Witherspoon |