"OUR FALLEN BROTHERS AND SISTERS"
There’s a lonely grave in Virginia, And a nameless sleeper there
Who fell when the tide of battle, Rolled over the land so fair.
No costly marble marks the spot, Where he fell mid the war’s stern route,
But a rough-hewn cross and the simple words, “A soldier mustered out”.
There are graves in the “Old Dominion”, Where the hero’s lie at rest,
And piles of bronze and marble, Stand above each sleeper’s breast,
But none are there among them all, That fleck her hills about,
With a tomb so grandly simple, As the soldier’s “mustered out”.
It stands in its solemn beauty, By the ever moaning sea,
And the passing schooner proudly floats, The flag he died to free.
The white-capped billows bow their heads, And all the waters shout
And fling their foam wreaths round the grave, Where he sleeps “mustered out”.
Those waters on that dreadful day, Had seen him fighting fall,
And mingling with the battle’s smoke, Had made the soldier’s pall,
No arms reversed, no muffled drum, No shot and groan and shout,
These are the sounds that filled the air, When he was “mustered out”.
No music of sweet requiem, No church bell tolling low,
But clash of arms and cannon’s boom, When he was called to go.
His Shroud a blood-stained, tattered flag, His hymn the victor’s shout,
His knell was Cumberland’s last gun, When he was “mustered out”.
All hero’s sleep not ‘neath tall shaft, Nor monuments of stone,
For many graves are marked, alas! With one short word, “Unknown”.
There sleep brave men, who fought as those, For whom the millions shout,
Till the Lord of battle gave command, And they were “mustered out”.
But he who marks the sparrow’s fall, Knows where each hero lies,
And humble blood for justice shed, By him is not despised,
And when in the last reveille, The dead ranks throng about,
Foremost among the just shall stand, Those soldiers “mustered out”.
Written by: An Anonymous Confederate Soldier (his fate, “Unknown”)
* In memory of , 623,026 Americans*
"The Death Of A Comrade"
So one by one the orders come,
For "arms reversed" and "muffled drum",
"To beat off" dirges to the grave,
Where drooping flags in sorrow wave.
For step by step comes pallid death,
To seal all lips, to stifle breath,
To bid all hearts to cease to beat,
To call "lights out" and beat "retreat".
And one by one our comrades go,
Go from their "picket posts" below,
Go out of "duty" into life,
Yes, go to rest from battle's strife.
We hear the peal of minute gun,
That tells us of life's duty done;
Yea, tells us of a comrade gone,
Gone out of night to endless dawn.
Gone where no bugle notes begin,
Or sound alarms, "Fall in!" "Fall in!"
But where he hears "Stack arms" and rest,
Yea, rest forever with the blest.
For through the gate that inward swings,
To Him who reigns the King of kings,
God's blessed soldiers enter in,
Relieved from death and freed from sin.
In memory of:
Lawrence M. Sexton
Born: October 21, 1948
Died: May 30, 2008
In memory of:
Born: June 2, 1962
Died: December 18, 2017