THE DYING COMRADE by Charles R. Allen

I am dying comrades dying. The heart beats slowly in my breast. Here on my couch I am lying, Waiting for the eternal Rest. I am dying. Yes! I am dying, But I think I hear the bugle blow, With wounded comrades around me lying, Like they did over forty years ago. Perhaps I among the slain, Better have been numbered that day. Than suffer so many years of pain, And at last lie waiting at the grave. We thought our country would honor all, Who stood for Justice and Right, That went when they were called, Even when it was dark at night. But alas comrades I am Dying, Trusting almost to Charity alone, While our Flag on every Sea is flying, I am forgotten here at Home. But if our country seems ungrateful, We know she has raised columns high, To mark where we stood in battle, That the Union might never die. I will soon cross the dark river, The river we all so much dread, Altho my memory may not last forever, I hope that Flag may float o'er head.

Postwar Remembrances