By Hattie Bell
June 14, 1865. Vol. 1. No. 37. Page 4.
Where the sweet magnolia blossoms
“Neath a sunny southern sky,
Where the breezes softly murmur,
He had fallen there to die.
But a comrade watched beside him,
Through that long and weary day,
Listening to the words he uttered
For the loved ones far away.
Tell my fond and gentle mother
Not to weep when I am gone,
Tell her I am resting sweetly,
And my work on earth is done.
Tell her that her boy has fallen,
And she’s said her last farewell,
Say he’s gone to happier regions
With the angel’s pure to dwell.
Tell my loving little sister,
We shall meet on earth no more,
Tell her I will haste to meet her,
When she nears the shining shore.
When we parted that bright spring day,
I promised to return again;
Now my life is slowly waning,
She will watch for me in vain.
Comrade, see, my breath grows fainter,
And I scarce can see you now,
Gentle breezes float around me,
Kissing death-dews from my brow.
Make my grave beneath the willow,
By the sparkling river-side;
Tell my loved ones to forget not
Him who in life’s morning died.
Slowly o’er him crept death’s shadows,
Near the close of that sad day,
While the birds were sweetly singing,
Gently passed his soul away.
Sadly then his comrade laid him
In his lowly humble grave,
Amid the flowers beside the river,
Where the drooping willows wave.