Poems (Charlotte Allen)/The Soldier's Grave
THE SOLDIER'S GRAVE.
They dug him a grave on the mountain's breast,
'Neath the shade of an old oak tree,
And there the Soldier was laid to rest,
From life's changes and turmoils free.
He had fought in the field with bold and brave,
And many a laurel had won;
His victories o'er—the quiet grave
Now tells that his duties are done.
'Neath the shade of an old oak tree,
And there the Soldier was laid to rest,
From life's changes and turmoils free.
He had fought in the field with bold and brave,
And many a laurel had won;
His victories o'er—the quiet grave
Now tells that his duties are done.
No tear was there shed o'er the sacred spot,
For strangers only were round him;
Yet many may envy the Soldier's lot,
For no earthly ties there bound him.
He came from a clime beyond the broad deep;
His sorrows and joys were his own;
He told not his griefs, but he often would weep
When he fancied himself alone.
For strangers only were round him;
Yet many may envy the Soldier's lot,
For no earthly ties there bound him.
He came from a clime beyond the broad deep;
His sorrows and joys were his own;
He told not his griefs, but he often would weep
When he fancied himself alone.
Thou 'rt gone—poor man! heaven rest thee now;
Thy heart-strings have ceased their aching;
Thy palsied eyes and thy whitened brow,
Will know no more earthly waking.
Peace—peace to thy ashes! the Soldier's grave
Should be moistened with soldiers' tears;
Methinks the wise, the good and the brave,
Should hallow the Soldier's years.
Thy heart-strings have ceased their aching;
Thy palsied eyes and thy whitened brow,
Will know no more earthly waking.
Peace—peace to thy ashes! the Soldier's grave
Should be moistened with soldiers' tears;
Methinks the wise, the good and the brave,
Should hallow the Soldier's years.