On The Grave Of A Young Cavalry Officer Killed In The Valley Of Virginia

by


Beauty and youth, with manners sweet, and
    friends—
  Gold, yet a mind not unenriched had he
Whom here low violets veil from eyes.
  But all these gifts transcended be:
His happier fortune in this mound you see.



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Return to the Herman Melville Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; On The Photograph Of A Corps Commander

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