Classic Poem

The war-worn soldier leaves
The camp where comrades lie;
Alas, his cheeks, how deathly pale!
Alas, his limbs, they bend and fail!
He's coming home to die!
The last tattoo yet lingers on his ear,
The last command the dying brave shall hear.

The heavy, mournful look,—
The melancholy eye;
He's thinking of his comrades now
Who went with him a year ago,
Who went with him to die.
Their joyful shouts yet linger on his ear,
Their songs and revelings he seems to hear.

Meet him with cheering words—
Hands full of sympathy;
Throw wide your doors in welcoming;
Let woman's love her graces fling
Around him ere he die.
He dies for woman's love and woman's faith;
Her honor lives in that brave patriot's death.
Now go with trumpets forth,
Let drum and fife reply;
Join, oh, ye patriots, round the grave
Of him, the generous and the brave,
Who homeward came to die.
The last tattoo has beat upon his ear,
The last command the fallen brave shall hear.