And your parting, O, my comrade, will but seem a passing breath.
Well I know the awful pressure grief exerts upon the soul,
But I know it will but whiten what it can't control.
You have met on field of battle many a gallant foe,
And, with patriotism burning, gave them blow for blow,
You have fought till every rebel bent the suppliant knee,
And the land you loved and cherished once again was free.
You despise no gallant fellow who once wore the blue
When it cost both blood and treasure if a man was true.
You forgive the trivial errors of that noble band,