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The Sentinel


The men who watch through the lonely night Are guarding a world that sleeps. They anxiously wait for the morning light While time, like a tortoise, creeps. While other people enjoy their rest The sentinel walks his post, On the barren plain and the mountain crest And many a stormy coast. Night after night, the world around, All sentinels carry on, Alert to detect the slightest sound Till the shadows of night are gone. The stars punctuate the lonely space, But their light holds little cheer, For the men who walk with a measured pace Between the world and its fear. Their weary routine brings no acclaim, No praise from the lips of man. Their work will never be crowned with fame, Who watch through the long night's span They must brave the elements in any stage. The blizzard with blinding snow, The drenching rain and the thunder's rage, And the wildest winds that blow. The watch must be kept, so they do not quail, Though discomforts be many and hard. In lonely hours they will not fail, That the world may sleep while they guard. You who may slumber the whole night through, Untroubled by fear or fright, Remember great credit is rightfully due The men who watch through the night.



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