In a warm and crowded city,
Where no wild flowers ever bloom,
Sits an old and feeble lady.
Her latest hours seem filled with gloom
As she sits and weeps and wonders
If there's flowers on Charlie’s tomb.
For he is sleeping far away,
In the South, she knows not where,
And each thought to her seems sadder,
Every breath must bring a tear,
And as she sits alone, she wonders
If his spirit can be near.
Some have said, it may be true,
That our loved ones ever stay,
Keeping watch where'er we slumber,
Neal' us always night and day;
Were it so why need to weep,
Joy might ever hold her sway.
She knows her boy was young and brave,
Left his home and mother too,
To join the ranks, defend the flag,
He loved his country too;
Was faithful to the last, they wrote,
And died in his coat of blue.
Today she feels anew her loss,
Though many years have sped,
Since Charlie kissed that mother's brow
And his last farewell had said.
Today he sleeps in Southern field,
" Her darling boy is dead."
Weep not dear mother, angel forms
Are hovering ever near.
They bring you tidings of the time
That shall dry the scalding tear.
You are almost through your journey now:
The home you love so dear,
Is ready for that tired form;
Your Maker waits for thee.
Not many battles more to fight
Before you'll be set free:
Then there you'll find your soldier boy,
The one you long to see,
Don't sit and wonder if his grave,
Today is strewn with flowers:
For loyal people everywhere,
In this broad land of ours,
Ask not whether blue or gray,
But strew them all with flowers.