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 Round the flag of freedom rally,

Cheerily oh! cheerily oh!





THE SOLDIERS DREAM.

Our bugles sung truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd,

And the sentinel-stars set their watch in the sky;

And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd,

The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die,

When reposing that night on my pallet of straw

By the wolf-scaring forgot that guarded the slain,

At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,

And twice, ere the cock crew, I dreamt it again.

Methought, from the battle-field's dreadful array,

Far far I had roam'd on a desolate tract,

Till nature and sunshine disclos'd the sweet way,

To the house of my father, who welcom'd me

I flew to the pleasant field, travers'd so oft;

In life's morning watch, when my bosom was young:

I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.