Breathe not a whisper here;
The place where thou dost stand is hallowed ground;
In silence gather near this upheaved mound -Around the soldier's bier.
Here Liberty may weep,
And Freedom pause in her unchecked career,
To pay the sacred tribute of a tearO'er the pale warrior's sleep.
That arm now cold in death,
But late on glory's field triumphant
Our country's flag; that marble brow once
The victor's fadeless wreath.
Rest soldier, sweetly rest;
Affection's gentle hand shall deck thy
With flowers and chaplets of unfading
Be laid upon thy breast.
This poem appeared in the February 7, 1863, edition of The Poughkeepsie Telegraph.
