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His musket falls slack, his face, dark and grim, Grows gentle with memories tender,
As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep, And their mother—"may heaven defend her!" |
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"There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread." |
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The moon seems to shine forth 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. |
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