Rang with the Fleet's return and victory!
Men that were slumbering quietly, rose up
And joined the shout; the windows gleamed with lights,
The bells rang forth rejoicingly, the paths
Were filled with people; even the lone street
Where the poor widow dwelt, was roused, and sleep
Was thought upon no more that night. Next day—
A bright and sunny day it was—high flags
Waved from each steeple, and green boughs were hung
In the gay market-place; music was heard,
Bands that struck up in triumph; and the sea
Was covered with proud vessels; and the boats
Went to and fro the shore, and waving hands
Beckoned from crowded decks to the glad strand
Where the wife waited for her husband,—maids
Threw the bright curls back from their glistening eyes
And looked their best,—and as the splashing oar
Brought dear ones to the land, how every voice
Grew musical with happiness!
And there
Stood that old Widow woman with the rest,
Watching the ship wherein had sailed her Son.
A boat came from that vessel,—heavily
It toiled upon the waters, and the oars
Were dipp'd in slowly. As it neared the beach,
A moaning sound came from it, and a groan
Burst from the lips of all the anxious there,
When they looked on each ghastly countenance,
For that lone boat was filled with wounded men,
Bearing them to the hospital,—and then
That aged Woman saw her Son. She prayed,
And gained her prayer, that she might be his nurse,
And take him home. He lived for many days.
It soothed him so to hear his mother's voice,
To breathe the fragrant air sent from the roses,
The roses that were gathered one by one
For him by his fond parent nurse; the last
Was placed upon his pillow, and that night,
That very night, he died! And he was laid
In the same church-yard where his father lay,—
