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Somebody's Darling

(1864)


    Into the ward of the clean white-wash'd hall,
    Where the dead slept and the dying lay;
    Wounded by bayonets, sabres, and balls,
    Somebody's darling was borne one day.
    Somebody's darling, so young and so brave,
    Wearing still on his sweet, yet pale face —
    Soon to be hid in the dust of the grave,
    The lingering light of his boyhood's grace.
    Somebody's darling, somebody's pride.
    Who'll tell his mother where her boy died?

    Give him a kiss but for somebody's sake,
    Murmur a prayer for him soft and low;
    One little curl from its golden mates take,
    Somebody's pride it was once you know;
    Somebody's warm hand has oft rested there,
    Was it a mother's, so soft and white?
    Or have the lips of a sister so fair
    Ever been bath'd in their waves of light?
    Somebody's darling, somebody's pride,
    Who'll tell his mother where her boy died?





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