SOLDIER'S DREAM
Our bugles had sung, the night-cloud had lower'd,
And the centinel star set the watch in the sky,
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower’d,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.
When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain,
At the dead of the night, a sweet vision I saw,
And twice ere the cock crew I dreamt it again.
Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,
Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track,
Till nature and sunshine disclosed the sweet way,
To the house of my father, that welcom'd me back.
I flew to the pleasant fields, travell’d so oft,
In life's morning march, when my bosom was young,
I hear'd my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,
And well know the strain that the corn-reapers sung.
Then pledg'd we the wine cup, and fondly we swore,
From my home and my weeping friends never to part,
My little ones kiss’d me a thousand times o'er,
And my wife sobb'd aloud in the fulness of heart.
