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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 6. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 75 (search)
he bright world from my sight; When around the cheerful fire Gather brothers, sister, sire, Then I miss my boy's bright face From the old familiar place, And my sad heart wanders back To tented field and bivouac! Often in my troubled sleep, Waking, wearily, to weep-- Often dreaming he is near, Calming every anxious fear-- Often startled by the flash Of hostile swords that meet and clash, Till the cannon's smoke and roar Hide him from my eyes once more! Thus I dream, and hope, and pray All the weary hours away; But I know his cause is just, And I centre all my trust In thy promise — as thy day So shall thy strength be alway! Yet I need thy guidance still; Father! let me do thy will! If new sorrow should befall, If my noble boy should fall, If the bright head I have blessed, On the cold earth finds its rest-- Still, with all the mother's heart, Torn, and quivering with the smart, I yield him, 'neath thy chastening rod, To his dear country and his God. --Richmond Dispatch, Oct. 18