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"Halt ! who goes there?" my challenge cry—•
It rings along the watchful line— "Relief!" I hear a voice repty—
"Advance and give the countersign!" With bayonet at the charge, I wait—
The corporal gives the mystic word— With "arms aport" I change my mate,
Then onward pass, and all is well!
But in my tent, that night, awake,
I ask, "If in the fray I fall, Can I the mystic answer make,
When the angelic sentries call ?" And pray that Heaven so ordain,
Where'er I go, what fate be mine, Whether in pleasure or in pain
I still may have the "Countersign!"
THE DARLINGS AT HOME. By Col. C. G. Forshey.
The sentinel treads his martial round,
Afar from his humble home— The soldier he tramps till his thoughts are found On missions of love and tenderness bound,
Away among his darlings to roam.
What tender emotions now over him rush !
And the tears down his bearded cheeks steal, As he sees his darlings from their sportings rush, And bound to meet him with a joyful gush,
" Papa's come !" from their happy lips peal.