E. S. Kellogg, 1863
On the bloody field of battle,|
One dark night, with stealthy tread,
I was prowling 'round for plunder
'Mid the dying and the dead.
And roughly seized a locket,
Pressed upon a throbbing breast,
Words of pleasing, faintly uttered
Sought my purpose to arrest.
O! touch not my sister's picture,
Let it lie upon my heart;
With the parting kiss I promised
I would never with it part.
2. 'Tis my dearest earthly treasure
3. Lonely orphans from our childhood|
With no one to love beside,
She hath been my more than mother
Friend and couselor and guide.
By the memory of thy mother,
Let me plead with the once more,
Though I but repeat the language
Which I vainly used before.
O! touch not my sister's picture!
With these words he sank to rest.
In a new-made grace I left him,
With that locket on his breast.
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