These lines are inscribed to the memory of John Q. Carlin, killed at Buena Vista.

Warrior of the youthful brow,          Eager heart and eagle eye!      Pants thy soul for battle now?          Burns thy glance with victory?      Dost thou dream of conflicts done,      Perils past and trophies won?      And a nation's grateful praise      Given to thine after days?      Bloodless is thy cheek, and cold          As the clay upon it prest;      And in many a slimy fold,          Winds the grave-worm round thy breast.      Thou wilt join the fight no more, -      Glory's dream with thee is o'er, -      And alike are now to thee      Greatness and obscurity.      But an ever sunny sky,          O'er thy place of rest is bending;      And above thy grave, and nigh,          Flowers ever bright are blending.      O'er thy dreamless, calm repose,      Balmily the south wind blows, -      With the green turf on thy breast,      Rest thee, youthful warrior, rest!      When the alarum first was sounded,          Marshalling in arms the brave,      Forth thy fearless spirit bounded,          To obtain thee - what? A grave!      Fame had whispered in thine ear,      Words the high-souled love to hear, -      But the ruthless hand of death      From thee snatched the hero's wreath.      Often will the grief-shade start          O'er thy sister's mood of joy,      Vainly will thy mother's heart          Yearn to greet her absent boy;      Never sister's lip shall press      On thine own its fond caress, -      Never more a mother's eye      Flash in pride when thou art by!      Where the orange, bending lowly          With its golden fruit, is swaying;      And the Indian maiden, slowly          By her native stream is straying;      O'er thy dreamless, calm repose,      Balmily the South wind blows, -      With the green turf on thy breast,      Rest thee, youthful warrior, rest!