The Broken Mug
John Esteen Cooke 

My mug is broken, my  heart is sad!
What woes can fate still hold in store!
The friend I cherished a thousand days
Is smashed to pieces on the floor!
Its shattered and to limbo gone,
I’ll see my mug no more!

Relic it was of joyous hours
Whose golden memories still allure–
When coffee made of rye we drank,
And gray was all the dress we wore!
When we were paid some cents a month,
But never asked for more!
In marches long, by day and night,
In raids, hot charges, shocks of war,
Strapped on the saddle at my back
This faithful comrade still I bore —
This old companion, true and tried,
I’ll never carry more!

Found in War Poetry of the South

From here the poem turns rather long winded and in my mind goes downhill rapidly.  But the opening verses are enjoyable to read.  A man and his coffee cup, its a beautiful thing, but alas we must all suffer loss…..