“Bivouac of the Dead”
In honor of all who served and lost their lives
•May 21, 2025•
by Theodore O’Hara
“The muffled drum’s sad roll has beat, The soldier’s last tattoo; No more on life’s parade shall meet, That brave and fallen few. On Fame’s eternal camping-ground, Their silent tents are spread, And Glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead. No rumor of the foe’s advance, Now swells upon the wind; Nor troubled thought at midnight haunts, Of loved ones left behind; No vision of the morrow’s strife, The warrior’s dream alarms; No braying horn nor screaming fife, At dawn shall call to arms. Their shriveled swords are red with rust, Their plumed heads are bowed, Their haughty banner, trailed in dust, Is now their martial shroud. And plenteous funeral tears have washed, The red stains from each brow, And the proud forms, by battle gashed, Are free from anguish now. The neighing troop, the flashing blade, The bugle’s stirring blast, The charge, the dreadful cannonade, The din and shout, are past;