And bright anticipations fill his soul!
What are the loved ones doing now at home?
This is the hour when they were wont to pray,
All gathered 'round him in the olden time,
In sweet communion with the One above,
And are they praying thus to-night, for him,
As he has often prayed for them at eve,
When in the silence of his narrow tent,"
Amid the hurry of the midnight march,
Or in the lonely hours of picket-guard?
Will they expect the soldier home so soon?
Oh! blessed hope-to meet them all again,
Far from these scenes of war and war's alarms
While musing thus the picket was relieved,
And sought his quarters in the distant camp;
And as the "sweet restorer" closed his eyes,
And calm oblivion o'er his senses stole,
He murmured fondly that sweet word again-
The word "To-morrow!"
And the morrow came!
Calm, bright and beautiful was all the scene.
It was the calm before the fearful storm-
The awful silence ere the earthquake broke!
Scarce had the sun appeared above the hills
That formed the distant Eastern horizon,
When the fierce shock of battle broke the calm,
And warlike legions met in mortal strife!
Great was the carnage as the conflict raged,
With varied fortunes, 'till the close of day;
When glorious victory at last was ours!
The foe retreated from the gory field,
And Freedom's banner triumphed once again
O'er Treason's hated flag!
Who longed so fondly for the morrow's sun,
When the long term of service would expire,
And he could seek once more his peaceful home,
And clasp the loved ones to his heart again?
Go look amid yon pile of Union slain,
Where that fierce charge was made on rebel ranks,
And where our brave boys fell beneath their fire
Like grass before the mower's steady hand!
Well done, thou good and faithful warrior!
Thou art now home indeed-gone home to Heaven!
Those anxious ones, far, in that bright home,
Will hear the battle's heart destroying news,
And watch and wait for him they loved so well,
For many a weary day and sleepless night!
Oh, loving spirits, watch and wait no more,
He is another martyr to the cause
A sad to-morrow it has proved to them
And many others in our stricken land,
But when this gloomy night of life departs,
Before the dawning of an endless day,
When wars and partings shall be known no more,
They shall be with him in that Happy Land,
Forever and forever.
TELL ME DEAREST DO YOU MISS ME.
AFTER THE BATTLE OF GOLDSBOROUGH, N. C.
DEC. 18, '62.
TELL ME, dearest, do you miss me
At the morning's early hour,
When the dewy diamonds sparkle
In the crown of every flower?
Do you miss me when the sun is
Straight above our hemisphere,
And the world seems all in motion,
And seems in the best of cheer.
Tell me dearest do you miss me
When the stars are coming forth,
And are lighting up their signals
For the people of the earth?
Do you miss me at the midnight-
In your slumber does it seem
That my hand is tracing visions,
Pleasant visions in your dream?
Tell me, dearest, do you miss me?
No, the answer you may keep,
For I know your thoughts are with me,
In your wakefulness or sleep.
And it gives me arms of iron,
Strung to brave whate'er may come,
For I'll but return to honor
One who misses me at home.
BEFORE THE BATTLE OF HOLLY SPRINGS, MISS.,
DECEMBER 19тн, '62.
THE issue's made, our Flag displayed,
Let he who dare retard it;
No cowards here grow pale with fear,
For Northern swords now guard it.
The men who won at Lexington
A name and fame in story,
Were patriot sires, who lit the fires
To lead their sons to glory.
Like rushing tide down mountain side,
The Northern hosts are sweeping;
Each freeman's breast to meet the test
With patriot blood is leaping.
Now Southern sneer and bullies' leer
Will find swift vengeance meted;
For never yet since foemen met
Have Northern men retreated.
United now, no more we'll bow,
Or supplicate, or reason;
"Twill be our shame and lasting blame,
If we consent to treason.
Then in the fight our hearts unite,
One purpose move us ever;
No traitor hand divide our land,
REBEL RETALIATORY PROCLAMATION,
DECEMBER 23D, '62.
GREAT Jehovah! pure and holy,
Thou who reigneth over all,
Lead us on to deeds of valor,
At our country's solemn call.
Thou who led our noble sires,
Through the gloomy days of old;
Oh, forsake us not we pray thee,
Nor thy gracious power withold.
Be our guide thro' tribulation,
By the orphan be thou e'er;
Ease the heart where sorrow nestles,
And, oh! dry the widow's tear.
When this war shall cease its thunders,
And our blood no longer flow,
May we gather light and wisdom,
From this fearful shock of woe.
May our hearts be turn'd from anger,
Love again our bosoms fill;
And the mighty God of battles,
Lead us onward as He will.
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