By E. Morris
Died, at Fort Pickens, Florida, Sergeant James W. Davis, son of Rev. Henderson Davis, on July 19, 1864. Sergeant Davis was 26 years old, and was a member of Co. B, 25th Regiment U.S.C.T.
The loved of many hearts is gone,
The light of many eyes;
His race on earth at last is run--
His home’s beyond the skies.
No wife was near him when he died,
No friendly voice to cheer;
He fell the country’s greatest pride--
A noble volunteer.
’Twas hard for one so young and good;
But God had willed it so:
He fell, as every soldier should--
His face turned to the foe.
Short, truly, was his suffering-time;
How wondrous his reward!
His soul has gone to dwell above,
To stand before the Lord.
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My Friday was almost all boring necessary tasks, but most of the important stuff got done. And I got to fold laundry while watching Thor: Tales of Asgard, which was free on Vudu so I figured I'd see what it was and ended up thoroughly enjoying (the Valkyries! the dark elf mentor! Loki practicing magic!).
We had dinner with my parents, figured out Mother's Day plans, then came home to watch Blindspot, which I am very relieved has been renewed for next year, and Agents of SHIELD, which has been great this season so I'm hoping for good news there. Then we saw the Nationals win, and the Orioles won earlier, so yay!
From the night we saw Rick Astley at the Lincoln Theatre downtown in Shaw, here are photos of Spirit of Freedom -- the African-American Civil War memorial just above the U Street/Cardozo Metro station, including the names of the 200,000+ African-American soldiers -- and the entrance to the African American Civil War Museum:
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