Down from the long gray hospital came Every boy in blue who could walk the floor; The sick and the wounded, the blind and the lame, Formed two long files from her father’s door.
There was grief in many a manly breast, While men’s tears fell as the coffin passed; And thus she went to the world of rest, Martial and maidenly up to the last.
And that youngest surgeon, was he to blame?— He held the lancet—Heaven only knows. No matter; his heart broke all the same, And he laid him down, and never arose.
So Death received, in his greedy hand, Two precious coins of the awful price That purchased freedom for this dear land— For master and bondman—yea, bought it twice.
Such fates too often such women are for! God grant the Republic a large increase, To match the heroes in time of war, And mother the children in time of peace.
