I don't know what they'll put him at, or what his post may be;
I cannot guess the task that waits for him across the sea,
But I have known him through the years, and when there's work to do,
I know he'll meet his duty well, I'll swear that he'll be true.
I sometimes fear that he may die, but never that he'll shirk;
If death shall want him death must go and take him at his work;
This splendid sacrifice he makes is filled with terrors grim,
And I have many thoughts of fear, but not one fear of him.
The foe may rob my life of joy, the foe may take my all,
And desolate my days shall be if he shall have to fall.
But this I know, whate'er may be the grief that I must face,
Upon his record there will be no blemish of disgrace.
His days have all been splendid days, there lies no broken trust
Along the pathway of his youth to molder in the dust;
Honor and truth have marked his ways, in him I can be glad;
He is as fine and true a son as ever a father had.
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