Nesbitt Memorial Library Journal, Volume 9, Number 3, September 1999 Page: 192

Nesbitt Memorial Library Journal

Thy bridal morn will bring thee gifts,
Flowers of grace and jewels rare,
All formed of love, of which the world's
Material gifts will not compare,
Love's diamond smiles to wreathe thy head
And pearly tears at parting shed.
This tribute to thy band I bring,
Accept the simple offering,
Which from my spirit's harp evoked
Pours forth its strain on feeble string,
But yet a loving, tender lay,
With blessings for thy bridal day.
75. Withered Leaves (published in Colorado
Citizen, December 1, 1887)
[omitted]
76. Carrier 's Address (dated January 1, 1888,
published in Colorado Citizen, January 5,
1888; reprinted in Colorado County Citizen,
April 4, 1957; reprinted in Colorado County
Historical Commission, Colorado County
Chronicles (Austin: Nortex Press, 1986))
[omitted]
77. Greeting To Tom Green 's Brigade (pub-
lished in Colorado Citizen, February 28, 1888,
with sub-heading: "At Their Reunion at Co-
lumbus, Feb. 21, 1888")
Soldiers! We greet thy presence here
With throbbing hearts of pride,
While memory's touch brings to our eyes
The tears we fain would hide.
Heroes of many bloody fights
By woodland, stream and plain,
Oh! Can it be, with lapse of years,
We greet thee once again?

Not with the sound of rolling drum,
Or the bugle's call, ye meet,
On prancing steed, with flying flag,
For war, equipped complete.
But, Oh! ye come with memories strong,
Like altar fires that burn.
And treasured thoughts to greet again,
This happy day's return.
And we, with thoughts that turn to gaze
A down the distant past,
With hearts that never can forget
Through all the weary waste
Of time, behold your gathered host,
As proud ye marched away
Toward the setting sun, and bore
Your floating banner gay.
With saddened hearts and tear-dimmed eyes
We saw thee disappear
Beyond the reach of human sight,
But not of memory dear.
With toilsome march ye journeyed far
Where arid mountains spread
Their white pitched tents, like sepulchres
Where all around is dead.
Ye passed the Rio Grande's flood,
On Mexico's far shore,
But who can tell the message dark
Which war's hot breathings bore?
Valverde's fight came first, and then
Toiled like a funeral knell,
"On Glorietta's bloody plain
Our gallant Shropshire fell."
Oh! many youthful hearts were stilled
And weary heads were laid

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