My husband was alive, my dear,
a few short days ago,
his life cut short by musket ball
amidst the clouds of smoke.
He fought with all his valiance
for that which he knew right.
He traveled through Confederate lands
enveloped in the night.
A hero in his regiment,
held high above the rest,
was spat upon by Southern men,
a bullet in his chest.
How tragic was his sudden death,
at war where none will cease
to fire on their brethren
beleaguered with disease.
A soldier prone to martyrdom:
his country or his life.
Ensuring prosperous living for
his lone and lonely wife.
Though while my husband rests in peace
and slumbers in his tomb
High hopes I have for you, my child,
his spirit in my womb.