A Soldier Dead

He died amid the red hot smoke of battle,Died, with the flag, blood-purchased, in his hand;Died, with his white lips shouting, "On to victory!"Cheering, and urging on his bold command.Beneath a Southern sky of softest azure,His grave-faced comrades laid him down to rest,While muffled drum-taps stirred the air of evening,And the great sun hung low within the west,—Laid him to sleep with the blood-reeking banner,So dearly won, shrouding his lifeless breast.

What need of sculptured urn, or mausoleum,To tell his virtues, consecrate his name?He perished for his country! death all-glorious!The proudest fate that's given man by Fame!A nation's tears are his,—a nation mourns him,—His monument shall outlast space and time!He was a soldier; shared a soldier's fortune,And yielded up his life in manhood's prime;Proud of the honor,—proud to be selectedTo die a death so royally sublime!

A fair New England home is drear without him,Bright eyes are sad with weight of unshed tears;The memory of his lonely grave will darkenThe lives of kindred for these many years.But let them joy that for their noble countryThey had this dear one for a sacrifice;He is not lost,—the eyes of a great nationHave marked the lone spot where his mortal lies;—For, though recorded not on history's tablets,It is an epoch when a brave man dies!

Yes, leave him there,—the wild and grand AtlanticShall sing his dirges now and evermore;Shall daily chant his requiem, as the surgesBeat up the curvings of the sandy shore.The strife and tumults of his life are ended;For him, the "Charge," "Advance," "Sortie," are done;He'll face no more the hail of hostile cannon,The smoke of conflict darkens not his sun!He's scaled the walls, and gained the heavenly bastions;His peace is come; his bloodless victory's won.