Poems (Ford)/The Picket
For works with similar titles, see The Picket.
THE PICKET.[1]
The night is dark and cheerless, the wintry blast blows chillAcross the sluggish river, and o'er the dreary hillAnd out from camp the soldier on picket guard must go,Alone, while others slumber, to stand in cold and snow.
With muffled step, in silence, night's solemn noon goes by;Her myriad stars gaze coldly upon him from on high,And far o'er vale and mountain his thoughts unbidden roamTo old, familiar faces, and loving hearts at home.
He sees his aged mother, her sad face marked with care,While lovingly his sisters for him some gift prepare;He hears them speak of Charlie, and for his safety pray,And knows their hearts are with him, though he is far away.
But fiercer still around him the tempest's wild wings blow,The frosty air cuts keener than weapon of the foe;He feels his life-blood freezing, his heart grows cold and still,Out in the silent midnight upon the lonely hill.
At last, when dawns the morning, by the "relief" is foundStill at his post the soldier, stretched lifeless on the ground,A smile his pale lips parting—as peaceful seems his restAs is an infant's slumber upon its mother's breas⟨t.⟩
But where the dark Ohio rolls slowly on its wa⟨y,⟩Within a cheerless homestead are heavy hearts t⟨o⟩-day—A lonely widowed mother sits bowed in bitter w⟨oe,⟩Mourning her boy, her Charlie, who perished in t⟨he⟩ snow.
- ↑ In the winter of 1862 several soldiers on picket guard in the Army of the Potomac were found at their posts frozen to death.