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What a thrilling- pang- traverses his soul!
And a tear down his cheek is stealing-, For a thought of home, with the drum's deep roll, Spite a soldier's manliness, over him stole,
As the trumpet of battle was pealing.
A moment he saw his darlings and wife;
To Heaven he breath'd a short prayer! To his country then consecrated his life,
Rush'd in where the clamor of battle was rife— When a tempest of ball filled the air.
A wounded soldier, who fell by the Run,
Lies panting for breath and for water— His hand still grasping his trusty gun— Expires 'mid the glad notes of " victory won!" On Manassas' red field of slaughter.
In a far away cabin, a wailing is heard,
When the lists of the fallen have come ; A mother, long sicken'd by hope deferr'd, A widow with orphans is made at a word, And she weeps o'er the " darlings at home."