A Mother's Lament
As golden leaves softly they drift to the ground
with Autumn so newly begun
I sit here alone all steeped in my grief
and think of my dear absent son.
Twas just a mere boy so fresh out of school
when he did respond to that call.
Enlist! Enlist! come and fight the secesh
young warriors come one and come all.
So heavy of heart then I watched him go forth
all martial and flushed with such pride,
that long summers day way back in July
as hope it diminished inside.
Quite often he`d write, announcing some news
of great battles he`d fought and he`d won.
Of long, toilsome days ensconced within camp
with marching and drill to be done.
As the months they sped by and the war it surged on
with ne`er an end within sight
one dark, sultry evening with dread I did learn
of my brave soldiers untimely plight.
It was at Malvern Hill where he`d met his ill fate
a young wounded comrade he claimed.
Courageous and daring he remained to the end.
A heroe all say he was named.
Of very small comfort it is that I take
in my poor sons magnaminous deed.
A mothers sad loss cannot rightly be guaged
when set gainst a nations blind greed.
This page was last updated on: August 2, 2002
