Dora Sigerson Shorter

“ While he rose her voice obeying did the young volunteer,
Did the true volunteer, did the loved volunteer,
While you were still delaying died the brave volunteer.
'Tis a ghost and but the shadow of a young volunteer,
He is dead and stilly sleeping, what should be haunting here?
'Tis but the storm winds flutter old dreams you dare not utter
And false the hopes they mutter, and pale the volunteer,
'Tis a dream volunteer, yea, a dead volunteer,
Old leaves that fly and flutter round a dead volunteer. ”