Minden Day

All morning rang the gardens where grew the roses sweet With sound of drum and bugle, and tramp of marching feet; And each man plucked a blossom as he went his onward way, And gaily bloomed the roses in their caps on Minden Day. But many a flower was faded ere sank the summer sun, And many a man lay gasping before that day was done; When the ranks of foot charged madly on mounted squadrons gay, The rose of merry England was in the van that day, The foemen see and wonder: their staggering squadrons reel, Flung back ere yet they know it, before that wall of steel. But many a crimson blossom on the ground all trampled lay, For men fell like leaves in Autumn on glorious Minden Day.