St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1886-02-13
guard tent for the long-looked-for relief.
You ask for a song-well. here goes It:

lis nothing-a private or two now and then
VIII 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 tonight"
Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming;
Their tents in the rays Of the clear autumn
moon
Or the light of the watch fires are cleaning.
A tremulous sigh, as tho gentle night wind
Through the forest leaves slowly Is creep
ing,
While the stars up above, with their glitter
ing eyes.
Keep guard-for the army Is sleeping.
There is only the sound of the lone sentry's
tread
AS he tramps from the rock to the fountain,
And thinks of the two ia tho 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 q prayer for his children
asleep,
For their mother. may heaven defend her.
The moon seems to shine as brightly as
then,
That night, when the love yet unspoken
Leaped up 10 his lips, and when low-mur-
INJURED vows
Were pledged TO be ever unbroken.
Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his
eyes
He dashes of tears that are yelling,
And gathers his gun close up 10 its place,
As If to keep down the heart swelling,
He passes the fountain. the blasted pine tree,
The foOtstep is tagging and weary,
Yet onward he goes through the broad belt OF
light,
Toward the shores OF the forest so dreary.
Harkl was IL the night wind that rustled the
leavesg
Was IL moonlight so wondrously fashingl
1t looked like a rife-ah, Mary. goOd-byel
And the life blood is ebbing and FLASHING.
"All quiet along the Potomac tonight"
No sound save the rush or the river,
While soft falls the dew on the face of the
dead
Ard the picket's of duty forever.
The song is ended, and we talk of our loved
ones in their far-away homes. We recall
the day when the regiment marched away.
We still feel the pressure of warm, loyln z
lips as the last farewell is spoken. But our
boys felt so proud i'm the consciousness of
doing their duty, that all sacrifices were
made cheerfully. We look around and
find that the boys who started out with US
are not all here. Up in the hospital
to-day we saw one of them. a
pale-faced boy, lying on narrow
cot in a narrow room, yet he lay there
through the long days pain and gloom and
| -,
down beneath the blades of steel in last
weeks fight. AS 1 sat there to-day and
held his wasted hand and heard him tell of
the glad days in our distant home. and as
his restless fancy flew back to the quiet
| country lanes and TO the cottage door
where the swallows will come back to the
sheltering caves, but where he will
never return. and as he spoke OF
his mothers prayers and of heI
loving words, / somehow felt glad
that she could not see how the blight had
stained her boy in his bloom, and that heI
steps will never be beside his humble grave.
He is only going TO last little while, but
somehow / feel that this humble hero with
out name will be greater up there than
many one of those who are high born.
And there is another one who was taken
prisoner and carried to Belle Isle. Did YOU
| ask if he is likely to be exchanged? He
has been. When? Listen and I'll tel
you.
UNCHANGED"
From his dim prison house by Belle Isle:
bleak shore
He was borne 10 his last resting place;
The glow of affection and friendship no more
Shall rest on the captive's wan face;
The terms of his cartel his God has ar
ranged,
And the prisoner Of war has at last been
exchanged"
His comrades consign his remains TO the
earth
With a tear and a sigh Of regret:
He died far away from the land of his birth
From land he could never forget.
Mid the scenes Of his boyhood his fancy las'
ranged,
Ere the sorrows Of life and its cares wer,
exchanged.
| The clods of the Island now rest on the head
That fierce storm OF battle had spared;
On the field that was strewn with dying ant
dead,
Whose hardships and perils he shared:
From home, and from all that he loved, Ions
estranged
Death pitied his lot, and the captive ex
changed.
Is that all who are missing. did you ask
No, not all. Look around and count the
faces.
| ALL.
There hangs a saber, and there a rein
With rusty buckle and green curb-cbain;
| a pair of spurs on the old grey wall,
And q moldy saddle-well, that Is all.
Come out to the stable it is not far.
The moss-grown door is hanging ajar;
Look within! There's an empty stall.
Where once stood a charger-and that is all
The good black steed came riderless home.
Flecked with blood drops as well as foam.
Do you see that mound where the dead leave
fall?
The good black horse pinned TO death-that'
all.
AM Oh, God, it is all can speak;
Question me mott am old and weak.
His saddle and saber hang on the wall.
And his horse pinned TO death-Tve told YOU
all.
Red-tinged rays Of light herald the ap
proach of morning. It Is time TO breal
camp. Here we are back at home, anC
more than twenty years have interveneC
since we last messed together by the oil,
camp fire. Thank God, the war is now only
a Renaissance.
DEATH OF EX-Gov. SEYMOUR.