Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/40



’Twas at the dying of the day,
 * The darkness grew so still

The drowsy pipe of evening birds
 * Was hushed upon the hill.

Athwart the shadows of the vale
 * Slumbered the men of might,

And one lone sentry paced his rounds
 * To watch the camp that night.