Page:Minutes of the Immortal Six Hundred Society 1910.djvu/33

With gun and bayonet closely hugged to breast,
There came from southern hill with softest swell,
The air of "Dixie', which was loved so well
By every one who wore the coat of gray,
And still revered and cherished to this day.
In Dixie land they swore to live and die—
That was their watchword, that their battle cry.
Then rose on high the wild Confederate yell,
Resounding over every hill and dell;
Cheer after cheer went up that starry night
From men as brave as ever saw the light.
Now all is still. Each side has played its part,
How simple songs will fire a soldier's heart.
But hark! across the Rappahannock stream there floats
Another air, but ah! how sweet the notes.
Not those which lash men's passions into foam,
But richest gem of song—"Home, Sweet Home!"
Played by the band, which reached the very soul,
And down the veteran's cheek the teardrop stole.
Men who would march to the very cannon's mouth
Wept like children—from both the North and South.
Beneath those well-worn coats of gray and blue
Were generous, tender hearts, both brave and true.
The sentry stopped and rested on his gun,
And back to home his thoughts did swiftly run;
Thinking of loving wife and children dear,
With one left to guide them, none to cheer.
The stripling lad, not strong enough to bear
The weight of saber or the knapsack wear,
Tried to stop, with foolish, boyish pride,
The starting tear, but well try stop the tide,
Of ceaseless rolling ocean, just as well,
As stop those tears which fast and faster fell.
Then, lo, by mutual sympathy there rose
A shout tremendous— forgetting they were foes—
A simultaneous shout, which came from every voice,
And seemed to make the very heavens rejoice.
Sweet music's power! One chord doth make us wild;
But change the strain, we weep as little child.
Touch yet another, men charge the battery gun,
And by those martial strains a victory won.
It matters not from whence, how far we roam,
No heart so cold that does not love sweet home!