II.
Underneath the midnight sky,
Bright with starry beauty,
Sad, the shivering sentinel
Treads his round of duty:
For his thoughts are far away,
Far from strife and battle,
As he listens dreamingly,
To his baby's prattle;—
As he clasps his sobbing wife,
Wild with sudden gladness,
Kisses all her tears away—
Chides her looks of sadness—
Talks of Christmas nights to come,—
And his step grows lighter,
Whispering, while his stiffening hand
Grasps his musket tighter:—
"Patience, love!—keep heart! keep hope!
To your weary rover,
What a home our home will be,
When the war is over!"