Ethel Lynn Beers

“ His musket falls slack - his face, dark and grim,
grows gentle with memories tender,
as he mutters a prayer for the children asleep,
and their mother - "May Heaven defend her."
All quiet along the Potomac tonight.
Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes,
he dashes off the tears that are welling:
and gathers his gun close to his breast
as if to keep down the hearts swelling. ”