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 chill
Across the sluggish river, and o'er the dreary hill
And 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 roam
To 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 found
Still at his post the soldier, stretched lifeless on the ground,
A smile his pale lips parting—as peaceful seems his rest
As is an infant's slumber upon its mother's breast.

But where the dark Ohio rolls slowly on its way,
Within a cheerless homestead are heavy hearts to-day—
A lonely widowed mother sits bowed in bitter woe,
Mourning her boy, her Charlie, who perished in the snow.

  1. In the winter of 1862 several soldiers on picket guard in the Army of the Potomac were found at their posts frozen to death.