There’s a lonely grave in Virginia,  And a nameless sleeper there

Who fell when the tide of battle,  Rolled over the land so fair.

No costly marble marks the spot,  Where he fell mid the war’s stern route,

But a rough-hewn cross and the simple words,   “A soldier mustered out”.

There are graves in the “Old Dominion”,  Where the hero’s lie at rest,

And piles of bronze and marble,  Stand above each sleeper’s breast,

But none are there among them all,  That fleck her hills about,

With a tomb so grandly simple,  As the soldier’s “mustered out”.

It stands in its solemn beauty,  By the ever moaning sea,

And the passing schooner proudly floats,  The flag he died to free.

The white-capped billows bow their heads, And all the waters shout

And fling their foam wreaths round the grave,  Where he sleeps “mustered out”.

Those waters on that dreadful day,  Had seen him fighting fall,

And mingling with the battle’s smoke,  Had made the soldier’s pall,

No arms reversed, no muffled drum,  No shot and groan and shout,

These are the sounds that filled the air, When he was “mustered out”.

No music of sweet requiem,  No church bell tolling low,

But clash of arms and cannon’s boom, When he was called to go.

His Shroud a blood-stained, tattered flag, His hymn the victor’s shout,

His knell was Cumberland’s last gun,  When he was “mustered out”.

All hero’s sleep not ‘neath tall shaft,  Nor monuments of stone,

For many graves are marked, alas!  With one short word, “Unknown”.

There sleep brave men, who fought as those,  For whom the millions shout,

Till the Lord of battle gave command,   And they were “mustered out”.

But he who marks the sparrow’s fall,  Knows where each hero lies,

And humble blood for justice shed,  By him is not despised,

And when in the last reveille,  The dead ranks throng about,

 Foremost among the just shall stand,  Those soldiers “mustered out”.

Written by: An Anonymous Confederate Soldier (his fate, “Unknown”)

 * In memory of , 623,026 Americans*