By Mrs. M. A. Bigelow
March 29, 1865. Vol. 1. No. 26. Page 4
“My heart bled within me when I gazed on young H., where he lay in all the pale beauty of death. He was to have been married, the week following, to an accomplished lady; but such was his great zeal to serve his country, that he became a volunteer in our camp, and met his death the following morning. On opening his vest, we found a likeness of the beautiful Miss ____. The back of the portrait was stained with his blood.” [Life of Marion]
Where his country’s banner sweeps,
On the field of war he sleeps,
With his eyelids, darkly fringed,
By the breath of cannon singed;
And you see the crimson blood,
Where the youthful hero stood.
Warrior! In the furious strife,
In the weary ebb of life,
What could solace your young heart?
Making Death’s a pointless dart.
Could thy love of country stay?
While they life-stream ebbed away.
Soldier! What hast thou pressed
Closely to thy cold, still breast?
‘Tis a maiden’s pledge of truth,
Beaming with the air of youth;
Smiling in the dreadful fray,
Where the dead and dying lay.
Often didst thou fondly gaze
On that sweetly pictured face;
Dreaming of a conquered peace,
When the gory fight should cease,
And thy happy country, free,
Should give back thy bride to thee.
But thy hopes are withered now;
Death has chilled thy nobler brow;
And the maiden long shall wait,
Tearful and disconsolate;
For her warm hearty followed thee,
Struggling here for liberty.
Long that maiden dreamed of bliss—
Dreamed of coming happiness;
But her hopes are lost in night;
Thou hast fallen in the fight,
And thy garments, soiled and torn,
Stiff with clotted gore are grown.
Where the dewy morning weeps,
There the maiden’s lover sleeps,
There is sinking to decay,
There may be the vulture’s prey;
But he did not die unblessed,
With that image on his breast.