Fair Is the Rose

You choose the rose, love, and I'll make the vow
And I'll he your true love forever.
Tommy Makem

tear;
Carve on the wooden slab at his head,
"Somebody's darling slumbers here."
Penned by Marie Revenel La Coste,
who tended confederate soldiers in the wards of
Savannah and who lost her betrothed to the Cause

Somebody's heart enshrined him there,
Somebody wafted his name above,
Night and morn, on the winds of prayer.
Somebody wept when he marched away,
Looking so handsome, brave and grand!
Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay,
Somebody clung to his parting hand.
Somebody's watching and waiting for him,
Yearning to hold him again to her heart;
And there he lies with his blue eyes dim,
And his smiling, childlike lips apart.
Tenderly bury the fair young dead,
Pausing to drop on his grave a

Into a ward of the whitewashed halls,
Where the dead and dying lay,
Wounded by bayonets, shells and balls,
Somebody's darling was borne one day.
Somebody's darling, so young and so brave,
Wearing yet on his pale, sweet face,
Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave,
The lingering light of his boyhood's grace.
Matted and damp are the curls of gold
Kissing the snow of his fair young brow;
Pale are the lips of delicate mold,
Somebody's darling is dying now.
Back from his beautiful blue-veined brow,
Brush all the wandering waves of gold,
Cross his hands on his bosom now-
Somebody's darling is stiff and cold.
Kiss him once for somebody's sake,
Murmur a prayer soft and low;
One bright curl from his fair mates take—
They were somebody's pride, you know.
Somebody's hand has rested there:
Was it mother's, soft and white?
Or had the lips of a sister fair
Been baptized in their waves of light?
God knows best! He has somebody's love,

Dixiana and Ivy Rose had many nice dresses.
Slowly