A. W. AUNER, SONG PUBLISHER S PRINTER, Tenth and Race Sts., Philadelphia, Pa.


’Twas on a Sabbath morn,
The bells had chimed for church,
The young and gay were gathering
Around the rustic perch;
There came an aged man,
In a soldier’s garb was he,
And gazing on the ground he cried,
Do none remember me?

The veteran forgot
His friends were changed or gone,
The manly forms around him there,
As children he had known;
He pointed to the spot
Where his dwelling used to be,
Then looking around, smiling said,
You now remember me.

Alas! none knew him there,
He pointed to a stone
On which the name he breathed was traced,
A name to them unknown;
And then the old man wept.
I’m friendless now, cried he,
Where I had many friends in youth,
Not one remembers me.

The old man’s heart seemed broke,
Said he, is this my home,
I hoped with friends to end my days?
Alas! that hope has flown;
He clasped the moss grown tomb,
Thou art welcome death, said he,
Forgotton now by all on earth,
O! God, remember me.

A. W. AUNER’S CARD & JOB PRINTING ROOMS Tenth and Race Sts., Philadelphia, Pa.

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