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104. watching and waiting.

by Alf.
Here, a watchman on the railroad,
     Sit I in my palace great,
With my gun against my shoulder,
     Learning here to watch and wait.

[96] Watching for some daring rebel,
     'Gainst the bridge to vent his spite;
Waiting, with a studied patience,
     For the coming of the night.

From the forest trees about me,
     Come the dead leaves drifting down,
While the streamlet bears them onward
     Floating clouds of golden brown.

So, through all the passing autumn,
     All the long and lonesome day,
Watch I, while my spirit wanders
     To another far away.

One, whose purpose high and noble,
     Woke ambition in my breast,
For the good and right to struggle,
     Till my soul should sink to rest.

Sure my palace is a shanty--
     Sure the cracks are gaping wide;
And my hands are rough and rusty
     From the musket by my side.

But my soul is full of ardor
     For the triumph of the Right,
As I wait and watch here calmly
     For the coming of the night.

I am waiting for the battle
     I must wage throughout my life;
I am waiting for the spirit
     That shall guide me through its strife.

Cincinnati Times, Oct. 30.

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