Ethel Lynn Beers, The Picket Guard
“ A tremulous sigh, as a gentle night-wind Through the forest leaves slowly is creeping; While the stars up above, with their glittering eyes, Keep guard o'er the army 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 on the low trundel bed, Far away, in the cot on the mountain. ”
