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WOOD, James S. died 1863


Posted By: S. Ferrall - IAGenWeb volunteer
Date: 9/4/2021 at 17:43:13

To the friends of James S. Wood, of Co. K., first Iowa Cavalry, who died at Forsyth, Mo., Jan. 27, 1863 [sic], these lines are respectfully inscribed by J.W. Kinsley.

Mr. Wood was a brother of Mrs. Geo. W. Haislet, and these lines were sent us by his friends in the army, with a request to publish. The writer of the poem waited upon the deceased in his sickness and loved him as a brother -Ed

Hark! a muffled drum is beating
Near a newly opened grave;
And our Chaplin is repeating,
"Christ hath died, a world to save."

While a band of soldiers, wearing
Marks of sorrow, slowly come,
And before them they are bearing
A young comrade to the tomb

Death hath come, and claimed another
Of our little warrior band,
And we must resign our brother,
To his over grasping hand.

On they bear him, sadly, slowly,
With a heavy, mournful peace,
And within the grave so lowly
He doth find a resting place.

Now the earth is placed upon him,
He is freed from care and pain'
And we, who have learned to love him,
Ne'er shall see his smile again.

Ne'er again, at early morning
When the Bugle sounds for all.
Or at the "Alarm's quick warning,"
Will he answer at "Roll Call."

Now the "Farewell shot" is fired,
The last mournful prayer is said;
And his comrades have retired,
He is numbered with the Dead.

A bright smile his lips were wreathing
As his spirit passed away
Gently as an infant's breathing
At the close of summer's day.

I stood by while he was dying
Held his thin and wasted hand
And my heart with his was sighing,
When he spoke of the Home Band.

"Tell my Brother, when you meet him,
That for Liberty I died
And I one day hope to greet him
With my Mother, side by side.

"Tell my sister not to mourn me
God our Father, knows what's best,
Even hath his love upborne me,
And I soon shall be at rest.

"Should you ever meet my Brother,
Give to him my dying Love --
Hear on earth, I have no Mother --
She is waiting me above."

On the banks of the White River
Our young comrade lowly lies;
But he shall not sleep forever
God will call him to the skies.

When the "Roll Call" sounds in heaven,
He, among the first, will come,
And to him shall then be given
A most joyful welcome Home.

Now he rests within a valley,
Mid the stillness so profound.
But we know his sour will "rally"
When the last great trump shall sound.

Nobly hath he done his duty,
And 'tis said that such are blest,
Now, in all his youthful beauty,
He has gone to take his rest.

God hath called him up to Heaven,
That blest land of joy and light,
And to him hath now been given
The reward of doing right.

Ne're is heard the sound of battles
On that bright and peaceful shore,
Cannon's roar, or rifle's rattle
Never shall disturb him more.

Then farewell, but not forever,
For we soon shall meet again,
When we've crossed death's silent river,
And are freed from sin's dark stain.

Yes, farewell friend, till we meet
On a brighter, farer shore,
There in blissful joy to greet thee,
Where "farewells" are heard no more.

~The Weekly Union, Lansing, Tuesday morning, Dec. 29, 1863; pg 1

-J.W. Kinsley is most likely Jason W. Kinsley, who also served in Co. K, 1st IA Cav.

-James Wood's sister, Ella/Emily nee Wood (Mrs. Geo. W. Haislet), was the wife of the Editor of the Weekly Union newspaper in Lansing.


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