Tucker, Mary E.
|LINES UPON THE DEATH OF -- CHARLEY DU BIGNON.|
THE years of manhood had not tinged
His young life with their gloom,
He tasted not the bitter cup
That comes with life's full bloom,
Of fond hopes wrecked, ambition crushed,
'Till doubting even truth,
The sternest soul would hide itself
In memories of youth.
He saw not that in friendship's smile,
Was lurking hate, deceit;
Nor had he proven earthly bliss,
A mirage, dream -- a cheat.
While youth sees but the beautiful,
The sunshine and the flowers,
Maturity will have its cares,
And winter its cold showers.
Fortune bestowed on this her child,
High heritage, proud birth,--
Dame Feature added, as her dower,
Rare gifts of untold worth;
More priceless than most sparkling gems,
As pure as gold refined;
Most glorious birth-right-- sacred gifts,
A noble heart and mind.
How his proud, young soul revolted
At oppression's cruel reign,
And he rushed forth to the battle-field,
Our freedom to regain.
He thought not of his slender frame,
His heart was filled with might;
His armor God-- Truth for his shield--
His watchwords, Freedom! Right!
Alas, alas! where are they now,
Our noble, good,-- our braves?
Does our shame reflect upon them?
No, they rest in soldiers' graves.
And the old star-spangled banner,
Dyed with gore above us waves,
And our gallant dead are freemen,
And the living Union's slaves.
Then mourn not, parents, for your son,
Your much-beloved-- your pride;
He dwells above this earthly sphere,
Where lasting joys abide.
When this troubled dream is over,
You will meet your, boy again,
Ah, you would not then recall him
To this earth of war and pain?
Then mourn not, parents, for your dead,
But think that his pure name
Is on the list with those who wear
The laurel wreath of fame.