AS toilsome I wander'd Virginia's woods,To the music of rustling leaves kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas autumn,)I mark'd at the foot of a tree the grave of a soldier;Mortally wounded he and buried on the retreat, (easily all could I understand,)The halt of a mid-day hour, when up! no time to lose—yet this sign left,On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave,Bold, cautious, true, and my loving comrade.Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering,Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of life,
[ begin page 241 ]ppp.00707.249.jpgYet at times through changeful season and scene, abrupt, alone, or in the crowded street,Comes before me the unknown soldier's grave, comes the inscrip- tion rude in Virginia's woods,Bold, cautious, true, and my loving comrade.