Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1904-05-30
The Soldiers SoIiIoquy.

/, The gathered ranks with mutiied drums
had grandly marched away,
The hills had caught the sunset CLEAN
of n grand Memorial day;
The orator had held the throng on sor-
rows trembling verge.
The choir had sung their saddest strains
Some graves that had neglected. been
through many lonely hours,
Had leaped again to transient fame, and
blossomed forth with flowers;
And one old veteran. Private Brown.
with grey uncovered head
Still wandered mongst those small
green Hills that held his comrades
dead.
He bent and stroked the humble mound
with kind oId-fashloned word,
He called his comrades all by name, as
Il he knew they heard;
He said, "Ah. Private Johnny Smith, you
lie SO cold and still:
This isn't much like that summer day
you spent at Malvern Hill!
The believing of the mighty guns your
voice screamed loud above:
You yelled Come on and see how men
fight for the land they love!
You furnished heart for fifty fights; and
when the war was through
You vainly hunted round for work a
crippled man could do.
They let you die with want and debt to
be your winding sheet,
But this bouquet of flowers they sent is
very nice and sweet.
"Ah, Jimmy Jones. recollect the day
they brought you back:
They marched your body through the
streets meath banners draped in
Your funeral sermon glittered well-it
told how brave you died
The tears your poor old mother Shed
were partly tears of pride.
None left today to lean upon but country
and her God
She crept from yonder poOrhOuSe door
to kiss this bit of sod.
It's nard my boy; but nations all are
likely to forget
And God must take his own good time
to nake them pay a debt
The sweet forget me-nots that grow
above your faithful breast,
Are types of His good memory. boy
and He knows what is best.
"Philander johnson from the plains We
left you on as dead.
You carried to the prison-pen a keep
sake made Of lead;
You starved there for your country's
good-at last you broke away,
And got in time to Gettysburg to help
them save the day.
You hired a man to ask for you pen
sion 'twould appear,
Your papers lost-they put you off from
weary year to year.
And when, at last you, took your less
than thirty-centS a day,
You had to fight to keep the law from
taking it away.
Some school,boy doctor every month
And thump you like a tenor drum, to
find out if you lied:
You cost the nation little now, old hero
of the fray
1t sent some very pretty flowers to
strew you with today.
Yes. Lemuel White. this little flag is all
that's left to mark
The place where you retired so young
to chamber cold and dark.
The wooden slab l put up here so men
your deeds could know,
Was broken down by sundry beasts not
many months ago.
But yonder monument, upreared upon the
Is partly yours: although your name is
nowhere to be seen;
The country had your body, boy, 1t gives
TO God your soul,
1t needed not your name, except upon the
muster-roll.
'Forgive me boys-forgive me God, if
bad blood display,
But flowers seem cheap to men whose
hearts are aching day by day;
Forgive me, every woman true, whose
tender. thrilling hand,
Has lifted up to bless and soothe the
saviorS of the land.
Forgive ME every manly heart that knows
the fearful strain,
Of standing twixt America and blood,
and death and pain.
Forgive NEAL who know enough to fight |
the future foe.
By doing justice to the ones who fought 4
1t is to those who trample us, that l fell
called to say, X
That flowers look cheap to those who |
starve and suffer day by day"
The sun had fallen out of view, the night |
came marching down.
The twinkle of the window lights came |
creeping up from town.
The band was playing, cheerful airs, glad |
voices decked the scene.
And dancing were the youth and maid |
upon the Village green.
The gloomy graves We're half forgot, and |
pleasure ruled the night.
But God has ways to teach us yet, that |
Private Brown was right
Will Carleton in Everywhere.