There is a cap in the closet, Old, tattered, and blue—Of very slight value, It may be, to you:
But a crown, jewel studded, Could not buy it to-day,
With its letters of honor, Brave "Co.
K."The head that it sheltered Needs shelter no more:
Dead heroes make holy The trifles they wore;
So, like chaplet of honor, Of laurel and bay,
Seems the cap of the soldier, Marked "Co.
K."Bright eyes have looked calmly Its visor beneath,
O'er the work of the Reaper, Grim Harvester Death!
Let the muster roll meagre, So mournfully say,
How foremost in danger Went "Co.
K."Whose footsteps unbroken Came up to the town,
Where rampart and bastion Looked threat'ningly down!
Who, closing up breaches, Still kept on their way,
Till, guns downward pointed, Faced "Co.
K."Who faltered or shivered? Who shunned battle stroke?
Whose fire was uncertain? Whose battle line broke?
Go, ask it of History, Years from to-day,
And the record shall tell you, Not "Co.
K."Though my darling is sleeping To-day with the dead,
And daisies and clover Bloom over his head,
I smile through my tears As I lay it away—That battle-worn cap, Lettered "Co.
K."This poem was found in a book entitled Lyrics,
Incidents, and Sketches of the Rebellion, compiled by Ledyard Bill, sold by subscription only, and published in 1864 by Smith and
Dougal,
New York.
There is no authorship attributed, but the following note prefaces it: "Are there not many hearts that will feel the pangs of keenest pain on reading this?
Alas!
That so many brave soldiers', noble companions', affectionate brothers', and dearest friends' history, death, and memory, are all told in this sad, yet heroic verse.
