DECORATION DAY by Ellen E. Hebron

They are firing the cannon now - Will it bring me back my dead? Will it raise my soldier-brother's form, And restore his spirit fled? In far Virginia's soil He sleeps the "last long sleep," While I, his sister so bereft, His memory e'er shall keep. Fair was his youthful brow, Tender his loving eye, Loyal his hear to his native South, When he bade his home good-bye! High were his hopes of life, Nobel his soul sincere - O! mocking dream of the "long ago," So sudden his early bier! They are strewing the flowers now - O! my darling brave and true! Can they crown with joy your pallid brow As we fondly used to do. When your voice like a bugle-call To patriot duty came; And your laugh like a rippling summer stream Intensified the flame. Of love three sisters bore For an only brother's form - Alas! alas! that he should die So early 'mid the storm. I shall met you yet again! Bright in my soul your worth Shall blossom and blossom on through years, 'Till i bid adieu to earth. Sweet be thy soldier-rest; Happy thy christian bed; Loyal and true thy manly breast - My brother is not dead!

Postwar Remembrances

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Last modified 02-July-2002