| |
| AGAIN the wandering breezes bring | |
| The music of the sheaves; | |
| Again the crickets chirp and sing | |
| Among the golden leaves. | |
| Twelve times the springs have oped the rills, | 5 |
| Twelve amber autumns sighed, | |
| Since hung the war-cloud o’er the hills, | |
| The year that Charlie died. | |
| |
| The springs return; the roses blow, | |
| And croon the bird and bee, | 10 |
| And flutes the ring-dove’s love-call low, | |
| Along the Tennessee; | |
| But one dear voice, one cherished tone, | |
| Returns to me—ah, never! | |
| For Charlie fills a grave unknown, | 15 |
| By Chickamauga River. | |
| |
| Kind Nature sets her blossoms there, | |
| And fall the vernal rains; | |
| But we may lay no garlands fair | |
| Above his loved remains. | 20 |
| A white stone marks an empty grave | |
| Our household graves beside, | |
| And his dear name to it we gave | |
| The year that Charlie died. | |
| |
| The winds of fall were breathing low, | 25 |
| The swallow left the eaves; | |
| We heard the hollow bugles blow, | |
| When fell the harvest sheaves. | |
| And swift the mustering squadrons passed, | |
| We thought of Charlie ever,— | 30 |
| And swift the blue brigades were massed | |
| By Chickamauga River. | |
| |
| Along the mountain spurs we saw | |
| The wreaths of smoke ascend; | |
| And, all the Sabbath day, in awe, | 35 |
| We watched the war cloud blend | |
| With fall’s cerulean sky, and dim | |
| The wooded mountain side,— | |
| Oh, how our hearts then beat for him, | |
| The year that Charlie died! | 40 |
| |
| How Thomas thundered past when broke | |
| The wavering echelon! | |
| How down the sky in flame and smoke | |
| Low sunk the copper sun; | |
| The still night came, and who were saved | 45 |
| And who were called to sever, | |
| We could not tell; our banner waved | |
| By Chickamauga River. | |
| |
| And some returned with happy feet, | |
| But never at our door | 50 |
| The fair-haired boy we used to meet | |
| Came back to greet us more. | |
| But memory seems to hear the fall | |
| Of steps at eventide, | |
| And all the changing years recall | 55 |
| The year that Charlie died. | |
| |
| Yet such a gift of God as he | |
| ’T is blessed to have cherished; | |
| And they shall ever stainless be | |
| Who ’ve nobly fought and perished. | 60 |
| He nobly died, and he can know | |
| No dark dishonor ever, | |
| But green the grass for him shall grow | |
| By Chickamauga River. | |
| |
| Again I see the mountains blaze | 65 |
| In autumn’s amber light; | |
| Again I see in shimmering haze | |
| The valleys long and bright. | |
| Old Lookout Mountain towers afar | |
| As when, in lordly pride, | 70 |
| It plumed its head with flags of war | |
| The year that Charlie died. | |
| |
| On wooded Mission Ridge increase | |
| The fruited fields of fall, | |
| And Chattanooga sleeps in peace | 75 |
| Beneath her mountain wall. | |
| O Country, free from sea to sea, | |
| With union blest forever, | |
| Not vainly heroes died for thee | |
| By Chickamauga River! | 80 |
| |
