[There is nothing in this sentimental song that enables one to read the riddle of its remarkable popularity during the Civil War. It has no poetic merit; its rhythm is commonplace, and the tune to which it was sung was of the flimsiest musical structure, without even a trick of melody to commend it. Yet the song was more frequently sung, on both sides, than any other, the Southern soldiers inserting “gray” for “blue” in the sixth line of the first stanza, with cheerful recklessness of the effect upon the rhyme. The thing was heard in every camp every day and many times every day. Men chanted it on the march, and women sang it to piano accompaniment in all houses. A song which so strongly appealed to two great armies and to an entire people is worthy of a place in all collections of war poetry, even though criticism is baffled in the attempt to discover the reason of its popularity.--EDITOR.] [Illustration] WHEN THIS CRUEL WAR IS OVER. Dearest love, do you remember When we last did meet, How you told me that you loved me Kneeling at my feet? Oh, how proud you stood before me In your suit of blue, When you vowed to me and country Ever to be true. _Chorus._--Weeping, sad and lonely, Hopes and fears, how vain; Yet praying When this cruel war is over, Praying that we meet again. When the summer breeze is sighing Mournfully along, Or when autumn leaves are falling, Sadly breathes the song. Oft in dreams I see thee lying On the battle plain, Lonely, wounded, even dying, Calling, but in vain. _Chorus._--Weeping, sad, etc. If, amid the din of battle, Nobly you should fall, Far away from those who love you, None to hear you call, Who would whisper words of comfort? Who would soothe your pain? Ah, the many cruel fancies Ever in my brain! _Chorus._--Weeping, sad, etc. But our country called you, darling, Angels cheer your way! While our nation’s sons are fighting, We can only pray. Nobly strike for God and country, Let all nations see How we love the starry banner, Emblem of the free. _Chorus._--Weeping, sad, etc. [Illustration] CAVALRY Song BY EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN. Our good steeds snuff the evening air, Our pulses with their purpose tingle; The foeman’s fires are twinkling there; He leaps to hear our sabres jingle! Halt! Each carbine sends its whizzing ball; Now, cling! clang! forward all, Into the fight! Dash on beneath the smoking dome; Through level lightnings gallop nearer! One look to heaven! No thoughts of home: The guidons that we bear are dearer. Charge! Cling! clang! forward all, Heaven help those whose horses fall! Cut left and right!