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" I wish that mother's arms were folded round me now, That her gentle hand could linger, one moment on my brow, But I know that she is praying- where our blessed hearth-light gleams, For her soldier boy's safe return from Richmond on the James.
" And on my heart, dear comrade, lay close these auburn
braids, Of one that is the fairest of all our village maids; We were to have been wedded, but death the bridegroom
claims, And she is far that loves me, from Richmond on the James.
" O, does the pale face haunt her, dear friend, that looks on
thee, Or is she laughing, singing, in careless, girlish glee? It may be she is joyous, and loves but joyous themes, Nor dreams her love lies bleeding near Richmond on the
James.
" And tho' 1 know, dear comrade, thou'lt miss me for a
while, When their faces—all left to love thee—again on thee shall
smile, Again thou'lt be the foremost in all their youthful games, But I shall lie near Richmond—near Richmond on the James."
The land is fill'd with mourning from hall and cot left lone, We miss the well-known faces that used to greet our own, And long shall weep poor wives, mothers, and titled dames, To hear the name of Richmond—of Richmond on the James. |
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