It lies there alone, it is rusted and faded,
With a patch on the elbow, a hole in the side,
But we think of the brave boy who wore it, and
ever look on it with pleasure and touch it with pride.
A history clings to it, over and over,
We see a proud youth hurried on to the fray,
With his frame like the oak's and his eye like the eagle's,
How gallant he rode in the ranks of "The Gray."
It is rough, it is worn, it is tattered in places,
But I love it the more for the story it bears,
A story of courage in struggle with sorrows,
And a breast that bore bravely its burden of cares.
It is ragged and rusty, but once it was shinning
In the silkiest sheen when he wore it away,
And his face was as bright as the smile of the morning
When he sprang to his place in the ranks of "The Gray."
There's a rip in the sleeve and the collar is tarnished
The buttons all gone with their glitter and gold,
'tis a thing of the past, and we reverently lay it
Away with the treasures and relics of old.
As the gifts of love, solemn, sweet, and unspoken,
And cherished as leaves from a long-vanished day,
We will keep the old coat for the sake of the loved one
Who rode in the van in the ranks of "The Gray."
Shot through with a bullet, right here in the shoulder,
And down there the pocket is splintered and soiled,
Ah! more, see the lining is stained and discolored!
Yes, blood drops the texture have stiffened and spoiled.
It came when he rode at the head of the column,
Charging down in the battle one deadliest day,
When squadrons of foemen were broken asunder
And victory rode with the ranks of "The Gray."
Its memory is sweetest and sorrow commingled,
To me it is precious, more precious than gold,
In the rent and the shot hole a volume is written,
In the stains of the lining is agony told.
That was long years ago, when in life's sunny morning
He rode with his comrades down into the fray,
And the old coat he wore and the good sword he wielded
Were all that came back from the ranks of "The Gray."
And it lies here alone, I will reverence it ever
The patch in the elbow, the hole in the side.
For a gallanter heart never breathed than the loved one
who wore it with honor and soldierly pride.
Let me brush off the dust from its tatter and tarnish,
Let me fold it up closely and lay it away.
It is all that remains of the loved and the lost one
who fought for the right in the ranks of "The Gray."
Unknown
