Sawyer's songs were unique in that they were popular in both armies. They never contained a word of malice, and appealed to the universal human heart. At the close of the war a newspaper published at Milledgeville, Georgia, said of Sawyer's songs, "His sentiments are fraught with the greatest tenderness, and never one word has he written about the South or the war that could wound the sore chords of a Southern heart." The most universally famous of all Sawyer's songs was _When this Cruel War is Over_. As the long years of carnage dragged on, the fascination for the glamour and glory of war disappeared, and its horrid cruelty impressed people, North and South, more and more. Loving hearts in the army and at home caught up this song as an appropriate expression of the hunger for peace that was in their souls. A popular Southern song, _When upon the Field of Glory_, the words of which were written by J. H. Hewitt and the music by H. L. Schreiner, was an answer to this song of Sawyer's. As it is one of the best of the songs of the Confederacy, it is worth repetition here:-- "When upon the field of glory, 'Mid the battle cry, And the smoke of cannon curling Round the mountain high; Then sweet mem'ries will come o'er me, Painting home and thee, Nerving me to deeds of daring, Struggling to be free. Weep no longer, dearest, Tears are now in vain. When this cruel war is over We may meet again. "Oft I think of joys departed, Oft I think of thee; When night's sisters throw around me, Their star'd canopy. Dreams so dear come o'er my pillow, Bringing up the past, Oh! how sweet the soldier's visions! Oh! how short they last! "When I stand a lonely picket, Gazing on the moon, As she walks her starry pathway, In night's silent noon; I will think that thou art looking On her placid face, Then our tho'ts will meet together, In a heav'nly place. "When the bullet, swiftly flying Thro' the murky air, Hits its mark, my sorrow'd bosom, Leaving death's pang there; Then my tho'ts on thee will turn, love, While I prostrate lie. My pale lips shall breathe, 'God bless thee-- For our cause I die!' Weep then for me, dearest, When I'm free from pain; When this cruel war is over, In heav'n we'll meet again." [Illustration] [Illustration: _WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN_] _MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA._