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I'M THINKING OF THE SOLDIER.
By Mary E. Smith, of Austin, Texas.
O, I'm thinking' of the soldier as the evening- shadows fall, As the twilight fairy sketches her sad picture on the wall; As the trees are resting sadly on the waveless silence deep, Like the harks upon the ocean when the winds are hush'd to sleep.
All my soul is with the absent, as the evening shadows fall; While the ghosts of night are spreading o'er the dying light
a pall; As the robes of day are trailing in the halls of eventide, And yon radiant star is wooing blushing eve to be his bride.
I have shunn'd the cosy parlor—for a silence lingers there, Since our lov'd one went to battle, and we find a vacant
chair; And a sigh is stealing upward, as the evening spirits come, With the zephyrs, to the bowers of this sadly deserted home.
For when soft " good nights " are ended there's a room not
like the rest, Since a soldier left that chamber and that pillow is imprest; O, my soul is in a shadow, and my heart cannot be gay, As the eve with low refraining comes to shroud the dying
day. |
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