Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/283

Rh Matted and damp are the curls of gold Kissing the snow of that fair young brow; Pale are the lips of delicate mold, Somebody s darling is dying now. Back from the beautiful blue-veined brow Brush every wandering silken thread, Cross his hands on his bosom now Somebodv s darling is still and dead! Kiss him once for somebody s sake; Murmur a prayer both soft and low; One bright curl from its fair mates take They were somebody s .pride, you know. Somebody s hand has rested there; Was it a mother s soft and white? Or have the lips of a sister fair Been baptized in those waves of light? God knows best! He was somebody s love; Somebody s heart enshrined him there Somebody wafted his name above, Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. Somebody wept when he marched away, Looking so handsome, brave, and grand; Somebody s kiss on his forehead lay, Somebody clung to his parting hand. Somebody s watching and waiting for him, Yearning to hold him again to her heart; And there he lies with his blue eyes dim, And the smiling, childlike lips apart.