142
AT LAST.
Oh, days of waiting, nights of gloom,
Return to us no more!
Return to us no more!
Something is lost from many a home!
Somewhere they lie to-night,
The noble hearts who died to win
The battle for the right.
Peace to them! Though we miss the love
That swelled for us alone,
We're thankful that they died a death
We'll never blush to own!
Somewhere they lie to-night,
The noble hearts who died to win
The battle for the right.
Peace to them! Though we miss the love
That swelled for us alone,
We're thankful that they died a death
We'll never blush to own!
And for the living! those who've come
Back to their homes again,
Scarred with their wounds, all bronzed, and gray,
And furrowed with sharp pain,—
Be tender of them! We have dwelt
In peace and quiet here,
While they have fought to save for us
All that we held most dear.
Back to their homes again,
Scarred with their wounds, all bronzed, and gray,
And furrowed with sharp pain,—
Be tender of them! We have dwelt
In peace and quiet here,
While they have fought to save for us
All that we held most dear.
Honor the soldiers! Wheresoe'er
You see the faded blue,
Think that it hides a loyal heart,
To land and honor true!
And when at night, these wintry nights,
We gather side by side,
One moment's tender silence give
To those who fought and died.
You see the faded blue,
Think that it hides a loyal heart,
To land and honor true!
And when at night, these wintry nights,
We gather side by side,
One moment's tender silence give
To those who fought and died.
February, 1866.
