The Soldiers Grave

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.