And the eyes of those stern men were wetted with tears.
Bright visions of home through their mem’ries came thronging,
Panorama-like passing in front of their view;
They were home-sick—no power could withstand that strange yearning;
The longer they listened the more home-sick they grew.
Whence came those sweet sounds?—who the unseen musician
That breathes out his soul, which floats on the night breeze
In melodious sighs—in strains so elysian
As to soften the hearts of rude soldiers like these?
Each looked at the other, but no word was spoken,