Aged 18y 10m 17d
Killed at the battle of Marks Mills Ark.
Co. I 36th Reg. Ia. Vol. Inf.
S/S as Lewis, Mary G. & Edward B.
Centerville Citizen
Wednesday, October 9, 1889
PUBLISHED BY REQUEST
Lines by his mother, on the death of Andrew J. Brayman of the Iowa 36th, killed at Marks Mills April 25, aged 18 years, 10 months and 18 days.
Art thou gone to the spirit land, my boy?
Art gone to the spirit land?
Dost see the grief that fills our hearts,
Thus stricken by God's hand.
To well we know when thou went forth,
To fight at theycountry’s call,
That many brave hearts would ne’er return,
“That many brave boys must fall.”
When, in the long and dreary months,
You in the hospital lay,
You wrote, "could I once more see home,
‘Twould be a happy day."
At Little Rock, your comrades joined,
A merry time I ween;
And there you spent the winter months,
Until the earth was clothed in green.
And then you wrote were ordered South
To go, you knew not where,
But thought it was to whip "old Price,"
And drive him from his lair.
And then came the dreadful news,
That all were captured or slain
In guarding from Camden to Pine Bluff,
An empty wagon train.
And then we hoped, against all hope,
(Our hearts were filled with woe,)
You might be one if any escaped,
The bullet of the foe.
Then soon the fearful message came,
“Your boy’s among the slain.”
Oh! God, can there be deeper grief?
Can hearts bear greater pain?
Never went forth a braver heart
Never a better son,
But now he sleeps on Southern soil,
The war with him is done.
We hope you in our declining years,
Would be our staff and stay.
But God has willed it otherwise
His will we must obey.
Would I had died for thee my son,
Would I had died for thee,
That thou might’st have, Long to enjoy
The sweets of liberty
Come back, come back my darling boy,
In summer’s pensive eve,
And hover around by once loved home,
Bind up the hearts that grieve.
Nobly did the 36th,
Stand in that fearful fray,
Till a hundred and sixty gallant boys,
Dead or disabled lay.
Tell me your happy in that land,
With friends gone there before,
Whisper in my ear, my child,
And I can ask no more
Then fare thee well my own dear boy,
A long and last farewell,
Till we shall meet in that blessed land,
Together there to dwell.
MRS. MARY G. BRAYMAN
Belair, Iowa, May 25, 1864
Rebecca Calman (49524052)
Killed at the battle of Marks Mills Ark.
Co. I 36th Reg. Ia. Vol. Inf.
S/S as Lewis, Mary G. & Edward B.
Centerville Citizen
Wednesday, October 9, 1889
PUBLISHED BY REQUEST
Lines by his mother, on the death of Andrew J. Brayman of the Iowa 36th, killed at Marks Mills April 25, aged 18 years, 10 months and 18 days.
Art thou gone to the spirit land, my boy?
Art gone to the spirit land?
Dost see the grief that fills our hearts,
Thus stricken by God's hand.
To well we know when thou went forth,
To fight at theycountry’s call,
That many brave hearts would ne’er return,
“That many brave boys must fall.”
When, in the long and dreary months,
You in the hospital lay,
You wrote, "could I once more see home,
‘Twould be a happy day."
At Little Rock, your comrades joined,
A merry time I ween;
And there you spent the winter months,
Until the earth was clothed in green.
And then you wrote were ordered South
To go, you knew not where,
But thought it was to whip "old Price,"
And drive him from his lair.
And then came the dreadful news,
That all were captured or slain
In guarding from Camden to Pine Bluff,
An empty wagon train.
And then we hoped, against all hope,
(Our hearts were filled with woe,)
You might be one if any escaped,
The bullet of the foe.
Then soon the fearful message came,
“Your boy’s among the slain.”
Oh! God, can there be deeper grief?
Can hearts bear greater pain?
Never went forth a braver heart
Never a better son,
But now he sleeps on Southern soil,
The war with him is done.
We hope you in our declining years,
Would be our staff and stay.
But God has willed it otherwise
His will we must obey.
Would I had died for thee my son,
Would I had died for thee,
That thou might’st have, Long to enjoy
The sweets of liberty
Come back, come back my darling boy,
In summer’s pensive eve,
And hover around by once loved home,
Bind up the hearts that grieve.
Nobly did the 36th,
Stand in that fearful fray,
Till a hundred and sixty gallant boys,
Dead or disabled lay.
Tell me your happy in that land,
With friends gone there before,
Whisper in my ear, my child,
And I can ask no more
Then fare thee well my own dear boy,
A long and last farewell,
Till we shall meet in that blessed land,
Together there to dwell.
MRS. MARY G. BRAYMAN
Belair, Iowa, May 25, 1864
Rebecca Calman (49524052)
Aged 18y 10m 17d
Killed at the battle of Marks Mills Ark.
Co. I 36th Reg. Ia. Vol. Inf.
S/S as Lewis, Mary G. & Edward B.
Centerville Citizen
Wednesday, October 9, 1889
PUBLISHED BY REQUEST
Lines by his mother, on the death of Andrew J. Brayman of the Iowa 36th, killed at Marks Mills April 25, aged 18 years, 10 months and 18 days.
Art thou gone to the spirit land, my boy?
Art gone to the spirit land?
Dost see the grief that fills our hearts,
Thus stricken by God's hand.
To well we know when thou went forth,
To fight at theycountry’s call,
That many brave hearts would ne’er return,
“That many brave boys must fall.”
When, in the long and dreary months,
You in the hospital lay,
You wrote, "could I once more see home,
‘Twould be a happy day."
At Little Rock, your comrades joined,
A merry time I ween;
And there you spent the winter months,
Until the earth was clothed in green.
And then you wrote were ordered South
To go, you knew not where,
But thought it was to whip "old Price,"
And drive him from his lair.
And then came the dreadful news,
That all were captured or slain
In guarding from Camden to Pine Bluff,
An empty wagon train.
And then we hoped, against all hope,
(Our hearts were filled with woe,)
You might be one if any escaped,
The bullet of the foe.
Then soon the fearful message came,
“Your boy’s among the slain.”
Oh! God, can there be deeper grief?
Can hearts bear greater pain?
Never went forth a braver heart
Never a better son,
But now he sleeps on Southern soil,
The war with him is done.
We hope you in our declining years,
Would be our staff and stay.
But God has willed it otherwise
His will we must obey.
Would I had died for thee my son,
Would I had died for thee,
That thou might’st have, Long to enjoy
The sweets of liberty
Come back, come back my darling boy,
In summer’s pensive eve,
And hover around by once loved home,
Bind up the hearts that grieve.
Nobly did the 36th,
Stand in that fearful fray,
Till a hundred and sixty gallant boys,
Dead or disabled lay.
Tell me your happy in that land,
With friends gone there before,
Whisper in my ear, my child,
And I can ask no more
Then fare thee well my own dear boy,
A long and last farewell,
Till we shall meet in that blessed land,
Together there to dwell.
MRS. MARY G. BRAYMAN
Belair, Iowa, May 25, 1864
Rebecca Calman (49524052)
Killed at the battle of Marks Mills Ark.
Co. I 36th Reg. Ia. Vol. Inf.
S/S as Lewis, Mary G. & Edward B.
Centerville Citizen
Wednesday, October 9, 1889
PUBLISHED BY REQUEST
Lines by his mother, on the death of Andrew J. Brayman of the Iowa 36th, killed at Marks Mills April 25, aged 18 years, 10 months and 18 days.
Art thou gone to the spirit land, my boy?
Art gone to the spirit land?
Dost see the grief that fills our hearts,
Thus stricken by God's hand.
To well we know when thou went forth,
To fight at theycountry’s call,
That many brave hearts would ne’er return,
“That many brave boys must fall.”
When, in the long and dreary months,
You in the hospital lay,
You wrote, "could I once more see home,
‘Twould be a happy day."
At Little Rock, your comrades joined,
A merry time I ween;
And there you spent the winter months,
Until the earth was clothed in green.
And then you wrote were ordered South
To go, you knew not where,
But thought it was to whip "old Price,"
And drive him from his lair.
And then came the dreadful news,
That all were captured or slain
In guarding from Camden to Pine Bluff,
An empty wagon train.
And then we hoped, against all hope,
(Our hearts were filled with woe,)
You might be one if any escaped,
The bullet of the foe.
Then soon the fearful message came,
“Your boy’s among the slain.”
Oh! God, can there be deeper grief?
Can hearts bear greater pain?
Never went forth a braver heart
Never a better son,
But now he sleeps on Southern soil,
The war with him is done.
We hope you in our declining years,
Would be our staff and stay.
But God has willed it otherwise
His will we must obey.
Would I had died for thee my son,
Would I had died for thee,
That thou might’st have, Long to enjoy
The sweets of liberty
Come back, come back my darling boy,
In summer’s pensive eve,
And hover around by once loved home,
Bind up the hearts that grieve.
Nobly did the 36th,
Stand in that fearful fray,
Till a hundred and sixty gallant boys,
Dead or disabled lay.
Tell me your happy in that land,
With friends gone there before,
Whisper in my ear, my child,
And I can ask no more
Then fare thee well my own dear boy,
A long and last farewell,
Till we shall meet in that blessed land,
Together there to dwell.
MRS. MARY G. BRAYMAN
Belair, Iowa, May 25, 1864
Rebecca Calman (49524052)
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