THE LITTLE DRUMMER BOY
by Fanny Falks

At the Prison Hospital, St. Louis

"Looking wishfully as if there was something still on his mind he said:
'My Mother was a good woman, too. She would treat a poor sick prisoner
kindly, and if she were with your son she would kiss him.'"

Lonely, dying among strangers,
   All his heart turned towards the South;
Longing for his Mother's blessing,
   For her kisses on his mouth.

For her arms once more to clasp him,
   Her soft hand upon his head,
And the dear, old-time caresses,
   Ere he slumbered with the dead.

Pleading, wistful eyes he turneth
   To a gentle face anear.
Bending down with woman's pity,
   His low, dying words to hear.

"Lady" said he,"At my Mother's 
   If one sick, a prisoner lay,
She would kindly watch beside him,
   As you watch by me today."

"If your son, oh, she would soothe him,
   And would kiss him -- she is good;"
Oh, the wishful glance upturned,
   All his meaning understood!

Gently bent the lady, o'er him,
   While his dying lips she prest,
"For your Mother's sake" she murmured --
   Comforted, he sank to rest.

Rest, that folds the hands forever --
   Sleep, no mother's tears can start,
Lo! two angels kissed him;
   Heeding the wild cry of his heart!

The Home Front

This page is http://civilwarpoetry.org/confederate/homefront/drummer.html
Last modified 16-April-2001