Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/281

T is nothing a private or two, now and then, Will not count in the news of the battle; Not an officer lost only one of the men, Moaning out, all alone, the death rattle." All quiet along the Potomac to-night, Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming; Their tents in the rays of the clear autumn moon, Or the light of the watch fires, are gleaming. A tremulous sigh, as the gentle night wind Through the forest leaves softly is creeping; While stars up above, with their glittering eyes, Keep guard for the army is sleeping. There s only the sound of the lone sentry s tread, As he tramps from the rock to the fountain, And thinks of the two in the low trundle-bed Far away in the cot on the mountain. His musket falls slack his face, dark and grim, Grows gentle with memories tender, As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep For their mother mav Heaven defend her! The moon seems to shine just as brightly as then, That night, when the love yet unspoken Leaped up to his lips when low-murmured vows Were pledged to be ever unbroken. Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes, He dashes off tears that are welling, And gathers his gun closer up to its place As if to keep down the heart-swelling.