And laugh as they wade through the meadow sweet.”
The soldier paused on the dusty march,
And stooped by the cooling stream to drink:
“O river, that runs through the fields of home,
What do my dear ones, who dwell on thy brink?”
“Farther and farther they roam—
They are sending their mimic fleets adrift;
And they follow them borne on my current swift.”
The soldier sank on the twilight sward,
And the vigilant lights were thronging above;