All quiet along the Potomac tonight, no sound save the rush of the river, while soft falls the dew on the face of the dead, the picket's off duty forever.
Only a mother's heart can be
Patient enough for such as he.
All quiet along the Potomac they say Except now and then a stray picket Is shot as he walks on his beat, to and fro, By a rifleman hid in the thicket.
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