Alexander B. McNair
Home On Furlough - Poem by Alexander B. McNair
Lighter and quicker the yong wife walks;
More and more constant the yong one talks;
Firelight and lamplight there ruddier glow
Over the walls of the home room throw,
All that will pleas him is doing and done;
Tonight the husband and father will come
Home on furlough.
The lovelist beams from the mother's eye,
As the weeks, and days, and hours go by;
And she thinks of hir darling coming to rest
His weary head on his mothers breast.
The time seems breaf since he nestled there,
Yet now he is coming, with manhood's care.
Home on furlough.
Sister their solder brother greet;
Friends and neighbours with pleasure meet,
And the maiden breathes in hir lover's ear
The few sweet words he loves to hear;
Thinking meanwhile of the days to come,
When he, shom she loves, will again come Home,
Alas! oh alas! for the loved and dear,
Of thoes who sleep on a Southern field
In vain for them are the lamps lit bright,
And the slippers and chair the fire at night;
In vain do their stricken spirits mourn
For the brave and gallent who ne'er return,
Eaven on furlough.
Father of nations! oh hasten we prey,
The rosey dome of that glorious day
When our bountiful country, united shal stand
The pride and delight of each nation and land?
When strife between brothers forever shal ceas
And the solder return to his fireside in peace
Without a furlough.
And yet we are all upon furlough hear,
And the Captain above, as the time draws near,
And our furlough expires, will summons us all
To his grand review at the trumpet's call,
Ah! Sad will it be for all who must say,
"I hav idly and wickedly wasted away"
My Life Furlough.
May the 18, 1864
Corp. Alexander B. McNair
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