Love passed o’er the quiet lea,
Light as only love may be,
Freighted with no care or pain.
Such the night; but with the morn
Brayed the distant bugle horn!
Louder! louder! still ’twas borne!
Then were anxious faces worn
In the halls of Linden Lane!
With the trumpet’s nearer bray,
Saw we arms and banners gay