BY A SOLDIER.
In early youth, far in the distant west,
With gentle steps the fragrant fields you pressed;
Then joy rebounded in thy youthful heart,
Nor thought of care, or trouble, bore no part.
The morn of life, whose sky seems ever bright,
And distant hills are tinged with crimson light,
When hope, bright hope, by glowing fancies driven,
Fill’d thy young heart with raptured thoughts of heaven