"Only a soldier!" confined in there-- A father's joy and a mother's care, Torn from his home. Now a maiden sighs for his return, On his sister's cheek the teardrops burn, For her soldier-brother's gone. "Only a soldier!" I thought anew, As fancy came, and I quickly drew "The parting hour," That hour he left at his country's call, To place himself as a living wall, Where sterner men might cower. In dreams he'd seen friends kneeling down To raise his head from the battle-ground, And thus he'd say: "Tell my father that fighting I fell, 'Mid hammering shot and screaming shell, When the South had won the day." Alas! he never had dreamed of death, But as borne on whistling bullets' breath, 'Mid muskets flashing; And where the war-dogs howling loud, Breathe with sulphur-smoke a battle cloud-- The shells with thunders crashing! But a fevered cot is his battle-ground, And slowly, calmly in death he's bound To the "Far-off-Land." No gentle sister's spirit is there, E'en in stranger's form with tender care, To bathe his dry burning hand. The dark sod hides the form of the dead, Dew-drops kiss no more that pale forehead, Nor gleam on his hair. Life's hope is gone! Life's sorrowing o'er, His spirit is on the "echoless shore," Dwelling with angels up there. Thus unwept, unmourned, he sank to rest, E'en by human sympathy unblest, To an unknown grave! God, who notes e'en the sparrow's fall, Shall, in the dread resurrection, call To Heaven the soldier brave! WHEN THE BOYS COME HOME. The boys are coming home again, This war will soon be o'er, The Southern land again will stand, As happy as of yore; Yes, hand in hand, and arm in arm, Together we will roam, Oh! won't we have a happy time, When all the boys come home. CHORUS.--We'll hoist the starry cross again, On freedom's lofty dome; And live in peace and happiness, When all the boys come home. We'll hoist the starry cross again, On freedom's lofty dome; And live in peace and happiness, When all the boys come home. We'll have no more false hopes and fears, No more heartrending sighs-- The messengers of peace will dry The weary mourner's eyes, We'll laugh and sing, we'll dance and play, Oh! wait until they come, And joy will crown the happy day, When all the boys come home. CHORUS. How proud our nation then will stand! United evermore, We'll bid defiance to the foe, That dare approach our shore, We'll hoist the starry cross again, On freedom's lofty dome, And live in peace and happiness, When all the boys come home. CHORUS. THE DRUMMER BOY OF SHILOH.