&nbsp;Into a ward of the white washed walls,
 Where the dead and dying lay,
 Wounded by bayonets, shells and balls,
 Somebody&rsquo;s darling was borne one day.

Somebody&rsquo;s darling so young and brave
 Wearing yet on his pale sweet face,
 Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave,
 The lingering light of his boyhood&rsquo;s grace.

Matted and damp are the curls of gold
 Kissing the snow of that fair young brow;
 Pale are the lips of delicate mold &ndash;
 Somebody&rsquo;s darling is dying now.

Back from the beautiful blue-veined brow
 Brushed all the wandering waves of gold;
 Cross his hands on his bosom now;
 Somebody&rsquo;s darling is still and cold.

Kiss him once for somebody&rsquo;s sake,
 Murmur a prayer soft and low;
 One bright curl from it&rsquo;s fair mates take;
 They were somebody&rsquo;s pride you know.

Somebody&rsquo;s hand has rested there;
 Was it a mother&rsquo;s soft and white?
 And have the lips of a sister fair
 Been baptized in the waves of light?

God knows best! He was somebody&rsquo;s love,
 Somebody&rsquo;s heart enshrined him there.
 Somebody wafted his name above,
 Night and morn on the wings of prayer.

Somebody wept when he marched away,
 Looking so handsome brave and grand;
 Somebody&rsquo;s kiss on his forehead lay;
 Somebody clung to his parting hand.

Somebody&rsquo;s watching and waiting for him,
 Yearning to hold him again to her heart;
 And there he lies with his blue eyes dim,
 And the smiling child-like lips apart.

Tenderly bury the fair young dead,
 Pausing to drop on his grave a tear;
 Carve on the wooden slab at his head,
 &ldquo;Somebody&rsquo;s darling slumbers here.&rdquo;

Marie La Coste

Somebody's Darling

Marie La Coste

Civil War

Somebody's Darling