Lines in Memory of D.W. Monroe, sone of Rev. J. Monroe, who died on the sea-shore far from his kindred and home. He was but little over 18 years of age, bright and talented to a remarkable degree, and me his former teacher, I may say, I never knew a more truthful and upright boy:
Alas! how many hearts have bled,
Over the lov’d and gallant dead!
How great the ruin and widespread,
Over our Southern land!
Who is exempt from mourning now?
Ah! Who has an unclouded brow?
And who has not been made to bow,
To God for helping hand?
Among the many who have gone –
Where cares and wars and griefs are done,
More lovely, truthful, there were none,
Than him of whom I write.
None knew him but to love him well,
None heard him speak, but felt the spell
Of innate goodness that must dwell
On words true hearts indite.
Far from his kindred and his home,
Beside the restless Ocean’s foam,
His country called his steps to roam,
And there he ceased below.
He sleeps now with his kindred dust,
His Spirit with his Only Trust,
Oh, may we all live lives so just
As Daniel White Monroe
Source: Fayetteville Observer, July 25, 1864 as found on www.ncecho.org.