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THE REUNION
Of the 21st Missouri at Edina, Missouri.
It is near thirty years since we came here to recruit after the
battles of Shiloh and Corinth.
POETRY INSPIRED BY THE OCCASION.
As we grasp old comrades by the hand,
The tears unbidden flow,
And memory swiftly calls us back
To some thirty years ago.
When with but one blanket to our back,
As we lay upon the snow,
And slowly munched our last hard tack
Near thirty years ago,
And talked of scenes of mortal strife
Through which we've had to go,
Thinking of home and the dear wife,
While time moved on so slow.
And as we pass the lone grave yards,
Where all in time must go,
We often think of lonely graves
Made some thirty years ago.
Think of the breast works we have charged,
Where the dead so thickly lay,
And how we tumbled them into the trench,
The blue as well as the gray.
We seem to hear the long roll beat,
That warns us of the foe,
Then hear them sound their own retreat,
And it's all peace here below.
And when we've heard the last roll call,
Seen our last of earthly scenes,
With our old blue coat for a pall
We'll lay down to pleasant dreams.
And with our flag still waving o'er us,
That blessed emblem of the free,
We'll join in that immortal chorus
And help sound the jubilee.
Composed by A. W. Harlan, of Co. F, 21st Mo.
Croton, Ioiva, Sept. 24th. 1892.
Of the 21st Missouri at Edina, Missouri.
It is near thirty years since we came here to recruit after the
battles of Shiloh and Corinth.
POETRY INSPIRED BY THE OCCASION.
As we grasp old comrades by the hand,
The tears unbidden flow,
And memory swiftly calls us back
To some thirty years ago.
When with but one blanket to our back,
As we lay upon the snow,
And slowly munched our last hard tack
Near thirty years ago,
And talked of scenes of mortal strife
Through which we've had to go,
Thinking of home and the dear wife,
While time moved on so slow.
And as we pass the lone grave yards,
Where all in time must go,
We often think of lonely graves
Made some thirty years ago.
Think of the breast works we have charged,
Where the dead so thickly lay,
And how we tumbled them into the trench,
The blue as well as the gray.
We seem to hear the long roll beat,
That warns us of the foe,
Then hear them sound their own retreat,
And it's all peace here below.
And when we've heard the last roll call,
Seen our last of earthly scenes,
With our old blue coat for a pall
We'll lay down to pleasant dreams.
And with our flag still waving o'er us,
That blessed emblem of the free,
We'll join in that immortal chorus
And help sound the jubilee.
Composed by A. W. Harlan, of Co. F, 21st Mo.
Croton, Ioiva, Sept. 24th. 1892.
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