The Vacant Chair

George F. Root, 1862

We shall meet, but we shall miss him,
There will be one vacant chair;
We shall linger to caress him,
While we breath our evening prayer
When a year ago we gathered,
Joy was in his mild blue eye;
But a golden chord is severed,
And our hopes in ruin lie.

CHORUS:
We shall meet, but we shall miss him,
There will be one vacant chair;
We shall linger to caress him,
When we breath our evening prayer.

At our fireside, sad and lonely,
Often will the bosom swell;
At remembrance of the story,
How our noble Willie fell;
How he strove to bear our banner
Through the thickest of the fight,
And uphold our country's honour,
In the strength of manhood's might.

True they tell us wreaths of glory,
Evermore will deck his brow,
But this smoothes the anguish only
Sweeping o'er our heartstrings now.
Sleep today, o early fallen,
In thy green and narrow bed,
Dirges from the pine and cypress,
Mingle with the tears we shed.