The Southern Poems Of The War

Excerpt from The Southern Poems of the War About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

Reprint of the original, first published in 1867.

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1868 edition. Excerpt: ... "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 slowly is creeping, While the stars up above, with their glittering 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 on 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 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 to his lips, and 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 close up to its place, As if to keep down the heart-swelling. He passes the fountain, the blasted pine-tree, The footstep is lagging and weary, Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light, Towards the shades of the forest so dreary. Hark! was it the night-wind that rustled the leaves? Was it moonlight so wondrously flashing? It looked like a rifle--ha! Mary, good-bye! And the life-blood is ebbing and splashing! "All quiet along the Potomac to-night," No sound save the rush of the river; While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead--The picket's off duty forever! 1861. all'S well. feoji "toe land YJ love." "--Post number one: --'All's well.' Post number two: --'All's well: ' and so the assuring cry goes the circuit of the camp."--Officer's Notr-book....

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