All ’s Well

Thomas Dibdin (1771–1841)

From “The British Fleet”

DESERTED by the waning moon,

When skies proclaim night’s cheerless noon,

On tower, or fort, or tented ground

The sentry walks his lonely round;

And should a footstep haply stray

Where caution marks the guarded way,

“Who goes there? Stranger, quickly tell!”

“A friend!” “The word?” “Good-night;” all ’s well.

Or, sailing on the midnight deep,

When weary messmates soundly sleep,

The careful watch patrols the deck,

To guard the ship from foes or wreck;

And while his thoughts oft homewards veer,

Some friendly voice salutes his ear,—

“What cheer? Brother, quickly tell;

Above,—below.” Good-night; all ’s well.