Come raise me in your arms, dear brother,
And let me see that glorious sun,
For I am weary, faint, and dying,
How could that battle be lost or won.
I remember you, my brother,
Sent to me that fatal dart;
Brothers fighting against brothers,
Well, 'tis well that thus they part.
Father fighting for the Union ,
You will meet him on the field;
How could you raise your hand to smite him,
How could you bid our father yield?
He who loved us in our childhood,
Taught us infant prayers we said;
Brother, I am surely dying,
Shall soon be numbered with the dead ,
| Do you ever think of mother
In that home far in the land?
Watching, praying for her children,
If I could see that home again!
Write a letter to my mother,
Send it when her boy is dead;
That he perished by his brother,
Not one word of that be said.
Brother, take from me a warning,
Keep that secret you have won,
For it would kill our aged old mother
If she knew what you have done. |
