Verse > Anthologies > Francis T. Palgrave, ed. > The Golden Treasury
Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury.  1875.
T. Campbell
CCLXVII. The Soldier's Dream
OUR bugles sang 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         5
  By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain, 
At the dead of the night a sweet Vision I saw, 
  And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again. 
Methought from the battlefield's dreadful array 
  Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track:  10
'Twas Autumn, and sunshine arose on the way 
  To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. 
I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft 
  In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; 
I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,  15
  And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. 
Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore 
  From my home and my weeping friends never to part; 
My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er, 
  And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fullness of heart.  20
"Stay—stay with us!—rest!—thou art weary and worn!"— 
  And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay;— 
But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, 
  And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. 

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