April 26, 1863, Peoria Morning Mail (Illinois)
You have put the children to bed, Alice–
Maude, and Willie, and Rose,
They have lisped their sweet “Our Father,”
And sunk to their night’s repose.
Did they think of me, dear Alice?
Did they think of me and say,
“God bless him, and God bless him,
Dear father, far away!”
O, my very heart grows sick, Alice,
I long so to behold
Rose, with her pure white forehead,
And Maud with her curls of gold;
And Willie, so gay and sprightly,
So merry and full of glee–
O, my heart yearns to enfold ye,
My smiling group of three.
I can bear the noisy day, Alice–
The camp life, gay and wild,
Shuts from my yearning bosom
The thoughts of wife and child.
But when the night is round me,
And under its strong beams,
I gather my cloak about me,
I dream such long, sad dreams!
I think of a pale, young wife, Alice,
Who looked up in my face
When the drum beat at evening
And called me to my place.
I think of thee, sweet birdlings,
Left in the dear home-nest
And my soul is sick with longings
That will not be at rest.
O, when will the war be over, Alice–
O, when shall I behold
Rose, with her pure white forehead,
And Maud, with her curls of gold;
And Will, so gay and sprightly,
So merry and full of glee,
And more than all, the dear wife
Who bore my babes to me!
God guard and keep you all, Alice;
God guard and keep me, too;
For if only one were missing,
What would the others do?
O, when will the war be over,
And when shall I behold
Whose whom I love so dearly,
Safe in the dear home-fold?