42. on guard.At midnight, on my lonely beat,
When shadows wrap the wood and lea,
A vision seems my view to greet
Of one at home that prays for me.
No roses bloom upon her cheek--
Her form is not a lover's dream
But on her face so fair and meek
A host of holier beauties gleam.
For softly shines her silver hair,
A patient smile is on her face;
And the mild, lustrous light of prayer
Around her sheds a moon-like grace.
She prays for one that's far away--
The soldier in his holy fight--
And begs that Heaven, in mercy, may
Protect her boy and bless the Right.
Till, though the leagues lie far between,
This silent incense of her heart
Steals o'er my soul with breath serene,
And we no longer are apart.
So, guarding thus my lonely beat,
By shadowy wood and haunted lea,
That vision seems my view to greet
Of her. at home, who prays for me.