What does this mean? Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night encampment on the hill, Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,--
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.