Firmly he rose, and fearlessly Fell, pierced by a dozen bullets, As the boat swung clear and free, But there was n't a man of them there that day Who was fitter to die than he ! F AR up the lonely mountain-side My wandering footsteps led; The moss lay thick beneath my feet, The pine sighed overhead. The trace of a dismantled fort Lay in the forest nave, And in the shadow near my path I saw a soldier's grave. The bramble wrestled with the weed Upon the lowly mound, The simple head-board, rudely writ, I raised it with a reverent hand, But time had blotted all but these: "A Georgia Volunteer." I saw the toad and scaly snake And hide themselves among the weeds His coffin but the mountain soil, I heard the Shenandoah roll I saw the Alleghanies rise Toward the realms of snow. The "Valley Campaign" rose to mind- I knew the sleeper had been one Yet whence he came, what lip shall sayWhose tongue will ever tell What desolated hearths and hearts Have been because he fell? What sad-eyed maiden braids her hairHer hair which he held dear? One lock of which, perchance lies with The Georgia Volunteer! What mother, with long-watching eyes Her darling boy to come? Her boy! whose mountain grave swells up But one of many a scar Cut on the face of our fair land By gory-handed war. What fights he fought, what wounds he wore, Are all unknown to fame; Remember, on his lonely grave There is not even a name ! That he fought well and bravely too, And held his country dear, We know, else he had never been A Georgia Volunteer. He sleeps what need to question now If he were wrong or right? He knows, e'er this, whose cause was just He wields no warlike weapons now, Who but a coward would revile An honest soldier's dust? |