Classic Poem

There's a cap in the closet,
Old, tattered, and blue,
Of very slight value,
It may be, to you;
But a crown, jewel-studded,
Could not buy it to-day,
With its letters of honor,
Brave " Co. K. "

The head that it sheltered
Needs shelter no more!
Dead heroes make holy
The trifles they wore;
So, like chaplet of honor,
Of laurel and bay,
Seems the cap of the soldier,
Marked " Co. K. "

Bright eyes have looked calmly
Its visor beneath
O'er the work of the Reaper,
Grim Harvester, Death!
Let the muster-roll, meager,
So mournfully say,
How foremost in danger
Went " Co. K. "

Whose footsteps unbroken
Came up to the town,
Where rampart and bastion
Looked threat'ningly down!
Who, closing up breaches,
Still kept on their way,
Till guns, downward pointed,
Faced " Co. K? "

Who faltered, or shivered?
Who shunned battle-stroke?
Whose fire was uncertain?
Whose battle line broke?
Go, ask it of History,
Years from to-day,
And the record shall tell you,
Not " Co. K. "

Though my darling is sleeping
To-day with the dead,
And daisies and clover
Bloom over his head,
I smile through my tears
As I lay it away —
That battle-worn cap,
Lettered " Co. K. "