20
MY SOLDIER.
I trifled,—sung or laughed, perchance,
With roses in my hair,
All unaware.
With roses in my hair,
All unaware.
In dreams I see him fall again,
Where cannons roar and guidons wave,—
Then wake to hear the lonesome rain,
Weeping the fallen brave,
Drip on his grave.
Where cannons roar and guidons wave,—
Then wake to hear the lonesome rain,
Weeping the fallen brave,
Drip on his grave.
Since treason sought our country's heart,
Ah, fairer body never yet
from nobler soul was torn apart;
No braver blood has wet
Her coronet.
Ah, fairer body never yet
from nobler soul was torn apart;
No braver blood has wet
Her coronet.
No spirit more intense and fine
Strives where her starry banners wave;
No gentler face, beloved, than thine,
Sleeps in a soldier's grave,—
No heart more brave.
Strives where her starry banners wave;
No gentler face, beloved, than thine,
Sleeps in a soldier's grave,—
No heart more brave.
And, though his mound I may not trace,
Or weep above his buried head,
Or weep above his buried head,
