from The Worcester Daily Spy, November 18, 1861 , (Volume 16 # 272), 

The Vacant Chair, Thanksgiving, 1861  

We shall meet, but we shall miss him,
There will be one vacant chair,
We shall linger to caress him.
While we breath our evening prayer.

When a year ago we gathered,
Joy was in his mild blue eye,
But a golden cord is severed,
And our hope in ruin lie.

At our fireside, sad and lonely,
Often will the bosom swell,
At remembrance of the story
How our Noble Willie fell:

How he strove to bear our banner,
through the thickest of the fight,
And upheld our country’s honor,
With the strength of manhood’s might.

True, they tell us, wreaths of glory,
Evermore will deck his brow,
But this sooths the anguish , only,
sweeping o’er our heart strings now.

Sleep today. O early fallen!
In thy green and narrow bed:
Dirges from the pine and cypress
Mingle with the tears we shed.

We shall meet, but we shall miss him,
There will be one vacant chair,
We shall linger to caress him
When we breathe our evening prayer.

                                                     H. S. W.

Worcester , Nov. 16, 1861

 

15th Massachusetts VI