A Soldier's Dream Before a Battle


Bond & Tinsley, Printers,

A Soldier’s Dream Before a Battle.

It’s midnight now in Tennessee,
There is no sound, but in the forest tree,
The cold October winds blow wild,
I’m sad when I think of the soldier’s child.

The soldier lies in his tent and dreams
Of his home in the North, and the bright running streams.
Of the wife of his youth, and the old cottage home,
Where, when but a boy, they delighted to roam.

He dreams of his parents, that’s beneath the cold sod,
They are resting their bodies, their sculs are with God;
He dreams of his daughter, so beautiful and mild.
That’s with her mother, a poor soldier’s child.

The bugle is sounded, the war path must be trod;
He thinks of his friends, he leaves them with God;
He rushes to battle, with the thousands so true,
To die ’neath the folds of the red, white and blue.

He has fought his last fight, his country to save.
To conquer the foe that seeks to enslave;
He fell in the battle, so fierce and wild,
And he breathed his last prayer for the soldier’s child.

From the field of the battle his body is borne,
To rest in the grave till the great judgment morn;
In his grave near the Camp may he find sweet repose.
And his friends the spot when the war shall close.

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