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Poem by Thomas Campbell


The Soldiers Dream


OUR bugles sang trucefor 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-fields dreadful array,
Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track:
Twas Autumn,and sunshine arose on the way
To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft
In lifes morning march, when my bosom was young;
I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,
And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.

Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore
From my home and my weeping friends never to part;
My little ones kissed me a thousand times oer,
And my wife sobbed aloud in her fullness 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


Thomas Campbell's other poems:
  1. Napoleon and the British Sailor
  2. Chaucer and Windsor
  3. Field Flowers
  4. Poland
  5. The Exile of Erin


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