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THE RETURN OF THE REGIMENT.
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Haggard with toil, fatigue, and pain,
Soiled and smoky with battle-stain,
Back they come to their homes again,
Changed as by many years;
But leaning out from the gazing bands
Many a woman silent stands,
Who longs to grasp their hard, brown hands,
And wash them white with tears!
Soiled and smoky with battle-stain,
Back they come to their homes again,
Changed as by many years;
But leaning out from the gazing bands
Many a woman silent stands,
Who longs to grasp their hard, brown hands,
And wash them white with tears!
Their banner wide in the wind unrolls,
Tattered and ragged with bullet-holes;
Think of the strong, heroic souls
Who hailed it as their pride;
And with their faint and anguished eyes,
Lifted in deathful agonies,
Saw it between them and the skies,
Blessed it, and blessing died!
Tattered and ragged with bullet-holes;
Think of the strong, heroic souls
Who hailed it as their pride;
And with their faint and anguished eyes,
Lifted in deathful agonies,
Saw it between them and the skies,
Blessed it, and blessing died!
Many a cheek at the memory pales;
The jubilant music faints and fails,
Dying in low and mournful wails
For those whose graves are green;
The crowd grows stir with a conscious dread,
So still that you almost hear the tread,
The jubilant music faints and fails,
Dying in low and mournful wails
For those whose graves are green;
The crowd grows stir with a conscious dread,
So still that you almost hear the tread,
