DECORATION DAY
by Ellen E. Hebron


They are firing the cannon now -
Will it bring me back my dead?
Will it raise my soldier-brother's form,
And restore his spirit fled?

In far Virginia's soil
He sleeps the "last long sleep,"
While I, his sister so bereft,
His memory e'er shall keep.

Fair was his youthful brow,
Tender his loving eye,
Loyal his hear to his native South,
When he bade his home good-bye!

High were his hopes of life,
Nobel his soul sincere -
O! mocking dream of the "long ago,"
So sudden his early bier!

They are strewing the flowers now -
O! my darling brave and true!
Can they crown with joy your pallid brow
As we fondly used to do.

When your voice like a bugle-call
To patriot duty came; 
And your laugh like a rippling summer stream
Intensified the flame.

Of love three sisters bore
For an only brother's form -
Alas! alas! that he should die
So early 'mid the storm.

I shall met you yet again!
Bright in my soul your worth
Shall blossom and blossom on through
years,
'Till i bid adieu to earth.

Sweet be thy soldier-rest;
Happy thy christian bed;
Loyal and true thy manly breast -
My brother is not dead!

Postwar Remembrances

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Last modified 02-July-2002