Omro Herald Friday, June 15, 1894 p. 4 The following stanzas written by Sergt. C. J. Fox to his sister, while in the army in 1863, have been handed us with a request to publish:
To my Sister.
It is the holy Sabbath morn, And Nature seems to smile once more, We hear not now the bugle horn, And start not at the cannon’s roar. The mighty host that Longstreet led Has left our late ensanguined field, How quick to Fredericksburg they sped, In hope to make brave Hooker yield. But there they met a host of braves, Who nobly fought from morn till night, And this their motto, bloody graves, Or prove victorious in the fight.
They dare to die, but will not quail; With Freedom’s name they yield their breath, O God; those features, cold and pale, Look patriotic e’en in death. On yonder hill behold the stain Where fearless Berry, dauntless, stood. He cannot lead his host again. The parch’d earth drank the martyr’s blood, Go place him on a starry bier, And let the heartless traitor say His noble ashes are too dear To mingle now with common clay. C. J. FOX