APHC: Saturday, May 10, 1997

All Quiet Along the Potomac
Saturday, May 10, 1997
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All Quiet Along the Potomac

All quiet along the Potomac tonight,
Except here and there a stray picket
Is shot as he walks on his beat to and fro,
By a rifleman hid in the thicket.
'Tis nothing, a private or two now and then
Will 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,
And the sentry walks 'neath the clear autumn moon,
Near the light of the watch fires, gleaming;
His musket falls slack, and his face, dark and grim,
Grows gentle with memories tender,
As he mutters a prayer for his children at home,
And their mother, may Heaven defend her.

Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eye
He dashes off tears that are welling,
And gathers his gun closer up to its place
As if to keep down the heart-swelling.
He passes the trenches, the blasted pine tree
His footstep is lagging and weary;
Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light,
Toward the shades of the forest so dreary.

Hark! Was it the night wind that rustled the leaves,
Was it moonlight so wondrously flashing?
It looks like a rifle -- "Ah! Mary, good-bye!"
And his lifeblood is ebbing and splashing.
All quiet along the Potomac tonight,
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.