 | Lyrics: By Martin F. Tupper |  |
150
The Soldier Comforted.
Away to the War has the Soldier departed,
And with him both Husband and Father are gone,—
His children, half-orphans, are left broken-hearted,
His half-widow'd wife remains weeping alone!
He goes like a Soldier—courageously, cheerly
To fight for the Right at his country's command,
But leaves with a pang lest those he loves dearly
Should pine, in his absence, for Want in the land!
And with him both Husband and Father are gone,—
His children, half-orphans, are left broken-hearted,
His half-widow'd wife remains weeping alone!
He goes like a Soldier—courageously, cheerly
To fight for the Right at his country's command,
But leaves with a pang lest those he loves dearly
Should pine, in his absence, for Want in the land!
151
O when in his dreams those little ones prattle,
Let him not wake with the dread on his mind
That while he is fighting or dying in battle
The mother and babes may be starving behind!
And when at the bivouac stirring the embers
He chats with his mates of the deeds of the day,
Let him feel glad, as with thanks he remembers
That charity blesses his home far away!
Let him not wake with the dread on his mind
That while he is fighting or dying in battle
The mother and babes may be starving behind!
And when at the bivouac stirring the embers
He chats with his mates of the deeds of the day,
Let him feel glad, as with thanks he remembers
That charity blesses his home far away!
A loaf for the day, and a crust for the morrow,
And school for his children, and work for his wife,
Enough, to be clear of affliction and sorrow
And able to stand in the battle of life,—
Give this to your Soldier, to comfort and shield him
In those who at home are the Wanderer's care,
And all that in kindliness Here you may yield him
Be sure he'll repay you in gallantry There!
And school for his children, and work for his wife,
Enough, to be clear of affliction and sorrow
And able to stand in the battle of life,—
Give this to your Soldier, to comfort and shield him
In those who at home are the Wanderer's care,
And all that in kindliness Here you may yield him
Be sure he'll repay you in gallantry There!
| Lyrics: By Martin F. Tupper | |