The Soldier’s Dream

On Chicamauga’s bloody field,

     A wounded soldier lay,

Dreaming about his Hoosier Home,

     Six hundred miles away.

Thro’ thick’ning gloom of cloud and rain,

     There came an angel fair,

Robed in celestial light and placed

     A hand on his bloody hair.

And lo! visions broke upon

     The wounded hero’s eye,

As he beheld the rolling clouds

     Parting and upwardly fly;

A vast, reflected multitude

     Knelt on the Southern sod,

By broken chains and gory lash,

     In fervent prayer to God.

Then rose the countless throng erect,

     Their black hands lifted high,

And with supernal pow’r bore

     Abe Lincoln thro’ the sky.

Far thro’ the dim and distant blue,

     Past moon and shining stars,

Beyond Orion’s baleful hue,

     And blood-red light of Mars.

Angels with arms of living light

     By mighty pow’r given,

With radient faces lifted him

     Into the midst of Heaven.

There stood the sainted Washington,

     With heroes of the past,

With kindling eye and glowing face,

     To welcome Abe at last.

Then came a sight which ne’er till now

     Shone on earth’s greenest sod;

The glow’d o’er Lincoln’s noble brow

     Th’ radient smile of God.

A voice of murmurous sweetness said,

     Enter and be blest,

Emancipator of Mankind,

     The land of endless rest.

Then the angel of the soldier

     Turn’d the bright dreamer’s eye

Back from the mansions of the blest,

     Back from the glowing sky;

Down the turbid Mississippi,

     O’er Lake and rolling Bay,

We heard the thunder of our guns

     On their victorious way.

Then Art and Science, like the sun

     Of a Millennial ray,

O’erspread with peace and hope and joy,

     The dawn of Freedom’s day.

The flags of every mighty land,

     Of England, France and Spain,

Bowed down their standards, as of old,

     To Joseph’s golden grain.

And while the wounded soldier’s heart

     Grew warm with glory’s thrill,

There faded from our flag each stripe,

     But Stars were glowing still.

The Angel changed to mortal mould,

     Floated free each shining curl,

Which bound in loves delicious spell,

     Hero and Hoosier girl.

Then burst the clanging bugle’s note

     Upon the morning air;

He woke to see his Country’s flag,

     And Arabell—was there.

Oh wounded soldier, loved and blest,

     Oh Country, fair and free,

Enshrined in every Christian’s heart,

     By Lincoln’s jubilee.

Oh may our banner be the last

     Earth’s sun shall shine upon,

Redeemed in full by ABRAHAM,

     And blest by WASHINGTON.

SOURCES: “Original Poetry, Written for the Herald,” The Indian Herald, Huntington, Indiana, Wednesday, January27, 1864, p. 1; Lincoln, Abraham. Abraham Lincoln papers: Series 1. General Correspondence. 1833 to 1916: De Witt C. Chipman to Abraham Lincoln, Monday,Pomeroy Circular. 1864. Manuscript/Mixed Material. https://www.loc.gov/item/mal3109100/.