Fan, fan the gay hearth, and fling back the barred door,

Strew, strew the fresh rushes around on the floor,

And blithe be the welcome in every breast,

For a soldier—a soldier to-night is our guest.

All honor to him, who, when danger afar,

Had lighted for ruin his ominous star,

Left pleasures, and country, and kindred, behind,

And sped to the shock on the wings of the wind.

If you value the blessings that shine at our hearth—

The wife’s smiling welcome, the infant’s sweet mirth,—

While they charm us at eve, let us think upon those

Who have bought with their blood our domestic repose.

Then share with a soldier your hearth and your home,

And warm be your greeting whene’er he shall come;

Let love light a welcome in every breast,

For a soldier—a soldier to-night is our guest.