Busy as the busy bee, his rest should be the clover; Where the sun may shine upon it, Sunshine in his heart, the rain would come full often Where the wind may sigh upon it, "Captain or Colonel,"-whatever invocation Long as the sun doth shine upon it Shall grow the goodly pine upon it, Long as the stars do gleam upon it Shall Memory come to dream upon it. Thomas William Parsons [1819-1892] DIRGE FOR A SOLDIER CLOSE his eyes; his work is done! Rise of moon, or set of sun, In the clover or the snow! What cares he? he cannot know: Lay him low! As man may, he fought his fight, Proved his truth by his endeavor; Let him sleep in solemn night, Sleep forever and forever. Lay him low, lay him low, In the clover or the snow! What cares he? he cannot know: Fold him in his country's stars, What cares he? he cannot know: Lay him low! Leave him to God's watching eye; Trust him to the hand that made him. Mortal love weeps idly by: God alone has power to aid him. Lay him low, lay him low, In the clover or the snow! What cares he? he cannot know: Lay him low! George Henry Boker [1823-1890] "BLOW, BUGLES, BLOW" BLOW, bugles, blow, soft and sweet and low, Sing a good-night song for them who bravely faced the foe; Sing a song of truce to pain, Where they sleep nor wake again, 'Neath the sunshine or the rain Blow, bugles, blow. Wave, banners, wave, above each hero's grave, Fold them, O thou stainless flag that they died to save; All thy stars with glory bright, Bore they on through Treason's night, Through the darkness to the light Wave, banners, wave. Fall, blossoms, fall, over one and all, They who heard their country's cry and answered to the call; 'Mid the shock of shot and shell, Where they bled and where they fell, They who fought so long and well- Fall, blossoms, fall. Sigh, breezes, sigh, so gently wandering by, Sigh, breezes, sigh. John S. McGroarty [1862 "SUCH IS THE DEATH THE SOLDIER DIES" SUCH is the death the soldier dies: His brave heart following, still, the fray. The smoke-wraiths drift among the trees, The battle storms along the hill; A glimpse of far-borne flags, that fade He knows the sweeping charge is made, Unmindful of his mortal wound, He faintly calls and seeks to rise; But weakness drags him to the ground: Such is the death the soldier dies. Robert Burns Wilson [1850 THE maid who binds her warrior's sash One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles, As e'er bedewed the field of glory. The wife who girds her husband's sword, What though her heart be rent asunder, Hath shed as sacred blood as e'er Was poured upon the field of battle! The mother who conceals her grief While to her breast her son she presses, Then breathes a few brave words and brief, Kissing the patriot brow she blesses, With no one but her secret God To know the pain that weighs upon her, Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod Received on Freedom's field of honor! Thomas Buchanan Read [1822-1872] SOMEBODY'S DARLING INTO a ward of the whitewashed walls Somebody's darling! so young and so brave, Matted and damp are the curls of gold Kiss him once for Somebody's sake; Was it a mother's, soft and white? Been baptized in those waves of light? God knows best. He has Somebody's love; Somebody's heart enshrined him there; Somebody wafted his name above, Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. Somebody wept when he marched away, Looking so handsome, brave, and grand; Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay; Somebody clung to his parting hand;— Somebody's watching and waiting for him, Pausing to drop on his grave a tear; |