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The soldier awakes from his dream.
Oh! that his sorrows were past, Beyond the bright stars and the sky,
There 's a home for the weary at last, The gleam of some paradise joys,
Will greet him in heaven's pure air, O the heroes who perished for right,
How sweet to rejoin them all there! |
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PRO MEMORA.
By In a M. Porter, of Alabama.
Air—" There is Rest for the Weary."
Lo! the Southland queen emerging, From her sad and wintry gloom,
Robes her torn and bleeding bosom, In her richest Orient bloom. |
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Chorus.—(Repeat first line three times.) For her weary sons are resting
By the Eden shore; They have won the crown immortal,
And the cross of death is o'er ! When the oriflamme is burning,
On the starlit Eden shore. |
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