Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1876-11-03
orr FARMFR BRoWrs DRFAM.

OLD FdRABR BROWNS DREAM
Hannah, ! bad dream last night that tho War
iheard the scream o. the merry nfe an rattlln o.
once more our gallant Boye in 8iue, with their
glltterin guns, were seen,
An our. company formed In sold line upon the
There were wimmin there, with their little ones,
. an with faces pale an white,
AS they said Good by" to the men they love, who
were startln for the fight;
There were lovers who parted forever thon, an
mothers who tried 10 pray;
There were little babies who clspped their hands
ne thelrfathers marched away
Away from the peaceful village, with arm and a
solemn tread,
An down to the fields o glory where the burrows
Awayln hSmerry spring.tlme, pn' into the bloody
= fray,
While Tue silyercrested daisies were a'bloOmln'
with our war-drums a.wildly rollln', with our
voices iined In song, q. .L. .
An our coiofs a-gayly nyin as we proudly passed
along.
Then followed the sultry Summer; our faces grew
while over the dusty highways we tramped from
town 70 town;
Our feet were bllstered and weary, an our bodies
An some on us fell by the roadside to never rise
While Tue Gqttpn.leaves were afallng', l lay up
With Rebel bullet in me, an both Of my boys
were dead.
l could hear the loud guns boomin', without the
An while hundreds died around me, struggled
through IL all.
Again at the dreary outposts when the fields were
On the banks O the bleak Potomac, stood In the
snow, on guard.
/ thought o. the ones who loved me, In my home
while watched the stars above me, an waited
the dawn o. day.
dreamed stood on the battlefield, with the
bullets s.whstlin' by,
With the smoke so thick about my head that
couldn't see the sky;
with the cannon around me roarn', like bursts o.
ithunderFoundi
Wherethe dyin an dead together lay in heaps up
on the grounds
Where many fallen hero with his last expirin'
breath,
Az his gallant comrades swept along in their last
wild charge q death.
Rose up on his hands and cheered 'em, from the
fnrrow where he lay,
Albumin with thirst an fever, while his life
blood ebbed away;
Where the terrible cries o. the wounded resounded
through the air.
As the sun went down, at the close o. day, with
red an awful glare:
Where. down in the dark ravnes, at night in
trenches long an deep,
We buried our dead, an left EN- to their last, un
broken sleep.
My dream was changed. Above me saw cloudy
Once more in Southern prison in anguish l
seemed to lie
with nothln' oerhead for shelter--on pile o.
with hundreds around me starvin an s.dyn'
every day.
was chilled by the dews o. the evenin'; was
wet by the fallin rain,
An with lips that were parched with fever prayed
for death in vain.
We were tortured beyond endurance, while Rebel
fiends stood by
Who goated upon our anguish, an smiled 10 see
us die.
Hannah 1 woke from my awful dream with the
cold sweat on my brow,
An thank the Lord with ali my soul that the
That over the country everywhere the Old Flag
still remains;
That the millions are freed from their bondage
who once were held in chains;
That the terrible Southern slave-pens their prey
no longer hold;
That the auction. blocks have vanished where
human flesh was sold;
That no more amid the tangled swamps we hear
the lbaying hound;
That thes whipping.post is overthrown to which
theelaye was bound
Where are the Southern Traitors whom we fought
Where are the Northern copperheads who were
= the last to yieldi 4
Where are the'wlh guerrillas who wrought such
Who murdered defenseess wimmen dozen years
agof
There are some who have served the Devil so long
. . an so very well - .r - frt
That, instld O. bein in Congress, they ought to be
in He'll,
With lsete hre an birthstone to keep 'em kind
- o. warm;
There are some who are shootln' nggers" an a.
shoutin for Reform:
There are some who are talkin' Treason, an will
until they die;
And ALL are ahowlln' for Tilden as loud as wolves
can cry.
Under the wayin Southern pines our fallen heroes
Sleep
Down in the darksome trenches, In many a-molder-
in heap;
An there on the fields o. glory, they're waitin'
the Judgment-Day:
Must we tell our children's children that those
lives were thrown awayY
Eugene j. Hal, In Chicago TFi6uue.