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THE SLEEPING SOLDIER, by                    
First Line: On the wild battlefield where the bullets were flying
Last Line: Overwept by the night, overwatched by the stars.
Subject(s): Death; Soldiers; War Injuries; Dead, The


On the wild battlefield where the bullets were flying,
With a ball in his breast a brave soldier was lying,
While the roar of the cannon and cannon replying,
And the roll of the musketry shook earth and air.

The red ooze from his breast the green turf was a-staining;
The light of his life with the daylight was waning;
From his pain-parted lips came no word of complaining;
Where the fighting was hottest his spirit was there.

He had marched to the van where his leader commanded;
He had fall'n like a pine that the lightning has branded.
He was left by his mates like a ship that is stranded,
And far to the rear and a-dying he lay.

His comrades press on in a gleaming of glory,
But backward he sinks on his couch cold and gory;
They shall tell to their children thereafter the story,
His lips shall be silent forever and aye.

A smile lit his face, for the foe were retreating,
And the shouts of the victors his lips were repeating,
And true to his country his chill heart was beating,
When over his senses a weariness crept.

The rifles' sharp crack, the artillery's thunder,
The whizzing of shell and their bursting asunder,
Heaven rending above and the earth rumbling under,
Nevermore might awake him, so soundly he slept.

He had rushed to the wars from the dream of his wooing,
For fame as for favor right gallantly suing,
Stern duty each softer emotion subduing,
In the camp, on the field—the dominion of Mars.

And there when the dark and the daylight were blended,
Still there when the glow of the sunset was ended,
He slept his last sleep, undisturbed, unattended,
Overwept by the night, overwatched by the stars.





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