Old Time is the boy your "bit" to destroy
As he jogs along, contented and true;
And so, in the end, you'll find he's the friend
That brought you to "one and a few."
Midnight Musings.
'Tis midnight! The sentry's muffled tread
Is heard within these walls:
As silent as the living dead
He makes his regular calls.
I try to sleep, but all in vain;
I try to close—I weep,
I hear that muffled tread again—
The sentries on me peep.
I hear a voice so clear and plain—
It calls to me aloud—