The Soldiers Dream
Our bugles sang truce; for the night-cloud had lowered,
And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.
When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain,
At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,
And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.
Methought from the battle-field's dreadful
Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track:'Twas autumn; and sunshine arose on the
To the home of my fathers, that welcomed my back.
I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so
In life's morning march, when my bosom was young;
I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,
And knew the sweet strains that the corn-reapers sung.
Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I
From my home and my weeping friends never to part:
My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er,
And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart."Stay, stay with us — rest, thou art weary and worn:"And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay;
But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn,
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.
Thomas Campbell
Other author posts
The River of Life
The more we live, more brief Our life's succeeding stages; A day to childhood seems a year, And years like passing ages
The Exile Of Erin
There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin, The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill: For his country he sign'd, when at twilight To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion,
Ode to Winter
When first the fiery-mantled sun His heavenly race begun to run; Round the earth and ocean blue, His children four the Seasons flew First, in green apparel dancing, The young Spring smiled with angel grace;
To The Rainbow
Triumphal arch, that fill'st the When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud To teach me what thou art; -Still seem; as to my childhood's sight,
