Page:He comes from the wars (1).pdf/4

 As when first he sung to woman's ear

His soul-felt flame,

And, at every close, she blush'd to hear

The one loved name!

Oh! that hallowed form is ne'er forgot;

Which first love traced;

Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot

On memory's waste!

'Twas odour fled

As soon as shed;

'Twas morning's winged dream;

'Twas a light that ne'er can shine again,

On life's dull stream!

Oh,'twas a light; that ne'er can shine again;

On life's dull stream!

Whate'er my fate where'er I roam,

By sorrow still oppress'd;

I'll ne'er forget the peaceful home;

That gave a wanderer rest.

Then ever rove life's sunny banks,

By sweetest flow'rets strew'd,

Still may you claim a soldier's thanks,

A soldier's gratitude.

The tender sigh, the balmy tear,

That meek ey'd pity gave,