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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345786" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Countersign</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas! the weary hours pass slow,<br>The night is very dark and still;<br>And in the marshes far below<br>I hear the bearded whippoorwill;<br>I scarce can see a yard ahead,<br>My ears are strained to catch each sound;<br>I hear the leaves about me shed,<br>And the spring's bubbling through the ground.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Along the beaten path I pace,<br>Where white rags mark my sentry's track;<br>In formless shrubs I seem to trace<br>The foeman's form with bending back,<br>I think I see him crouching low:<br>I stop and list - I stoop and peer,<br>Until the neighboring hillocks grow<br>To groups of soldiers far and near.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With ready piece I wait and watch,<br>Until my eyes, familiar grown,<br>Detect each harmless earthen notch,<br>And turn guerillas into stone;<br>And then, amid the lonely gloom,<br>Beneath the tall old chestnut trees,<br>My silent marches I resume,<br>And think of other times than these.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sweet visions through the silent night!<br>The deep bay-windows fringed with vine.<br>The room within, in softened light,<br>The tender milk-white hand in mine;<br>The timid pressure, and the pause<br>That often overcame our speech -<br>That time when by mysterious laws<br>We each felt all in all to each.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then that bitter, bitter day<br>When came the final hour to part;<br>When clad in soldier's honest gray,<br>I pressed her weeping to my heart;<br>Too proud of me to bid me stay,<br>Too fond of me to let me go, -<br>I had to tear myself away,<br>And left her, stolid in my woe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So rose the dream - so passed the night -<br>When, distant in the darksome glen,<br>Approaching up the sombre height<br>I heard the solid march of men;<br>Till over stubble, over sward,<br>And fields where lay the golden sheaf,<br>I saw the lantern of the guard<br>Advancing with the night relief.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Halt! Who goes there?' My challenge cry,<br>It rings along the watchful line;<br>'Relief!' I hear a voice reply;<br>'Advance and give the countersign!'<br>With bayonet at the charge I wait -<br>The corporal gives the mystic spell;<br>With arms aport I charge my mate,<br>Then onward pass, and all is well.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But in the tent that night awake,<br>I ask, if in the fray I fall,<br>Can I the mystic answer make<br>When the angelic sentries call?<br>And pray that Heaven may so ordain,<br>Where'er I go, what fate be mine,<br>Whether in pleasure or in pain,<br>I still may have the countersign.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anonymous+Americas">Anonymous Americas</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345786" data-title="The Countersign de Anonymous Americas" data-description="Alas! the weary hours pass slow,
The night is very dark and still;
And in the marshes far below
I hear the bearded whippoorwill;
I scarce can see a yard ahead,
My ears are strained to catch each sound;
I hear the leaves about me shed,
And the spri..."></div>
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