Poems (Lambert)/The Signal Gun

THE SIGNAL GUN.
SOFTLY now the day is dawning,
Song-birds sing the lays of morning;
Al else around is calm and still,
Except-the picket on the hill.

Now where once the morning breeze
Sweetly floated through the trees;
Grim earth-batteries rear on high
Their ghastly heads up to the sky.

From morning's light to evening shades
We dwell in dread of martial raids;
With faith we trust protecting power
Will shelter us in this dark hour.

Listen! now the signal-gun
Tells the picket's work is done;
No more will he watch and wait—
Stands he now at heaven's gate.
Yes, the picket's race is run,
And his heavenly life begun.