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After The Battle

After The Battle image
Parent Issue
Day
20
Month
September
Year
1861
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

ïlie drums are all rmiffled; the bugles are HUI, There'a a pause in Iho valley, a hnlt on the hill; And bearers of standards swerve back with a thrill, Where sheaves of the dead bar the way; For a great field is reaped, Heaveu's garners to en, And stern death holds hia harveet to day. There's a voice on tho wind liko the spirit's low cry - 'Tis the mister roll souuding - and. who hall repíy? For thuse whoae wan faces glare white to the sky, With eyes fixed so steadfast and dinily. As tliey wait that lust trump wliich they may not delay; Whose hands clutch the aword hilt so grimly. The brave heads, late lifted, ore solemnly bowed, Aod the riderless chargers stand quivering and cowed As the burial requiem is clianted aloud, The pronns of the death atricken drowning While Vietory looks on, lite a queeD, palé and proud, Who waita till to-morrow her crowning. There is nomocking blazon, a3 olay sinka to clay ; The viüti pomps of peacc timo ara all ewept awtiy In the terrible fnoe of the dread battle day; Nor coffins nor shrouding? are litre; Only rtliea that lay where thickest the fray - A rent casque and a lieadlees sjiear. Far away, tramp on tramp, peals the march of the foe Like a storm wave's retreating- eiwnt fitful and sluw . With sound like their spirits that fainl as tbey go By you red-glowing rivor whoso waters Shnil darken with sorrow the land wheie flow To the eyes of her desolate dauhters. They are fled - they are gono; but, oh! not as they eame; In the pride of those numbers they etaked the game, Never more shall they stand in the vantuard of fama, Kever lift the stained aword which they drew ; Neyer more hall they boast of a glorious name, Never maroh with the leal and the truo. Where the wreek of our legins lay stranded and orn, They stole on our rauks in the mits of the morn : Like the giant of Gaza their strength it was shorn Ere those mists had rolled up to the sky; From the fluili of our steel a uew day-break seemed l)crn As we sprung up - to cooquer or die. The tumult is silenced; the death lots are cast; And the horsca of battle are slumbering their latt Do ye dieam of that pale form that rodo on the blast V Would ye free it onee more, O ye brave? Yes I the broad road to honur ia red where ye pnaeed, And of Glory.yeasked but- a gravel

Article

Subjects
Old News
Michigan Argus