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作曲 : Ethel L. Beers, John Hill Hewett |
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All quiet along the Potomac to-night! |
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Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming; |
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And their tents in the rays of the clear autumn moon, |
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And the light of the camp-fires are gleaming. |
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A tremulous sigh, as the gentle night-wind |
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Through the forest leaves softly is creeping; |
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While stars up above, with their glittering eyes, |
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Keep guard o'or the army while sleeping. |
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There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread |
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As he tramps from the rock to the fountain, |
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And he thinks of the two in the low trundle-bed, |
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Far away in the cot on the mountain. |
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His musket falls slack; his face, dark and grim, |
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Grows gentle with memories tender, |
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As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep, |
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And their mother—"may Heaven defend her!" |
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All quiet along the Potomac to-night! |
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Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes, |
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He dashes off tears that are welling, |
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And gathers his gun closer up to his breast |
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As if to keep down the heart's swelling. |
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He passes the fountain, the blasted pine-tree, |
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And his footstep is lagging and weary; |
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Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light, |
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Toward the shades of the forest so dreary. |
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Hark! was it the night-wind that rustled the leaves? |
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Was it moonlight so wondrously flashing? |
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It looked like a rifle: "Ha! Mary, good-by!" |
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And the life-blood is ebbing and plashing. |
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"All quiet along the Potomac to-night!" |
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No sound save the rush of the river, |
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While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead, |
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The picket's off duty forever! |
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All quiet along the Potomac to-night! |
