The following poem was found in The Jerseyman newspaper, published Morristown, N.J., Friday, May 25, 1906
The Old Brigade
Dedicated to "The Grand Army of the Republic"
Many a league, in our country's war
We have marched with the old Brigade;
We are proud of each furrow and scar
Thoas years of campaigning made.
Muskets and sabres, of shining steel,
Men who have worn the Union blue,
Minds that could dare and hearts that could feel,
We pledge and uncover to you.
Flags that were grimed, and were torn in the fray,
Battered bugles and broken drums;
When mem'ry summons that patriot day,
A tear to the eye unbidden comes;
Up, through the mist of that shining tear,
Rises the smoke of the fight and the camp,
Plainly the tread of the columns we hear
And the chorus of "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp!"
Beautiful dream of our daring days,
Of fair young cheeks that are furrowed now,
Of the weary march, in the sun's fierce blaze,
Of the bivouac in the winter's snow;
Where are our General, and all his Staff?
Where are our Colonels, and Captains all?
Out marching ranks with their merry laugh?
Our color guards, with their Sergeants tall?
Under the sods, with all their scars,
Half of our heroes, of every grade,
Gone from here, but, beyond the stars,
We shall "fall in" with the Old Brigade.
Frederick Wooster Owen,
Past Post Commander.
Morristown, N.J., May, 1906