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Oh, no; he'll not need them again,
But treasure them up for his sake; And oh, should you sing- a refrain,
Of the memories they still must awake, Sing it soft as the summer-eve breeze,
Let it sound as refreshing and clear; Tho' grief-born there 's that which can please,
In thoughts that are gemmed with a tear. |
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IN MEMORIAM. |
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Lieut. Sidney A. Sherman,* who fell at the Battle of Galveston,
January 1, 1863.
By Miss Mollie E. Moore.
Pillow his head on his flashing sword,
Who fell ere the fight was won, The turf looks red where his life was poured—
He fell beside his gun!
He died with the gleam in his youthful eye,
The fire in his gallant breast, The light was shadowed but could not die,
That glisten'd upon his breast! |
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* Brave to a fault, he was cut down in his early youth, and fell a willing1 sacrifice at the altar of his country. Among his last words he said, " I fell beside my gun." |
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