Amanda Theodosia Jones
The Soldier's Bride
At last the dread cloud that hung over the gorges
Has sailed to the west and extinguished the sun;
At last, mid the mountains, war's thunderbolt-forges
Have ceased their loud labor; all fighting is done.
'My dearest, shrink not!' murmured he, when we parted,
'But pray that Jehovah our freemen may shield;
And if I should perish, be not heavy-hearted.'
In haste, then, he kissed me and sped to the field.