Still is the mighty host,
Each sentry at his post,
’Tis midnight’s hour:
There on my pallet low,
My brain on fire—aglow
With scenes of long-ago—
Entrancing power!
Home of my boyhood’s hours,
Nestled ’mid shady bowers,
How dear thou art!
I’m with you once again,
Freed from the poignant pain
Of seeing brothers slain—
Never to part.
Kind friends and parents dear,
Brushing the silent tear,
Utter, “Welcome!
Let glee and joy abound,
Let songs and jokes go round,
A warrior’s here—we’ve found
Our only son!”
A ramble now I take
O’er glen and silvery lake,
Now doubly dear!
Slowly I tread South Hill,
Thro’ wood and over rill,
The buzz of yon old mill
Reaching my ear.
Alas! how brief the stay!
A twinkling—then away
From scenes I love!
Back to the battle-field,
Where wounded patriots bleed,
From harm, be Thou my shield,
Oh God! above.