TO THE NEW YORK THIRTY-THIRD REGIMENT.
BY A. A. H.
Oh! where are those heroes; the first in the fight,
The brave Thirty-third with their standard so bright,
Unfurled to the breeze in the enemy’s view,
As they shouted aloud for the Red, White and Blue?
We saw them depart like a host from our shore;
Their guns on their shoulders they gallantly bore.
The path of their fathers they fearlessly trod;
Their bosoms beat proudly, their trust was in God.
Their steps never faltered, their hearts never failed,
At the glance of the traitors their eye never quailed.
On the red field of glory they fought undismayed;
On the red field of glory their relics are laid.
Now chant we their requiem, mournful and slow,
In deep thrilling tones let its melody flow;
Ah! well may we tell of their triumphs with pride,
Like warriors they fought, and like heroes they died;
Farewell to the dauntless, farewell to the brave!
Unshrouded they sleep in a far distant grave;
But fadeless, immortal their memory shall bloom,
And freedom with roses shall scatter their tomb.
Of the brave Thirty-third doth a remnant remain,
Whose gallant commander shall lead them again,
And the heart of rebellion grow cold as it feels
The plunge of their weapons, the wounds of their steel.
Their bright swords are gleaming, their banner unfurled
By the soft floating zephyrs, is gracefully curled;
They are restless, impatient the charge to renew,
They are shouting aloud for the Red, White and Blue.