The Bivouac of the Dead Their shivered swords are red with rust; And plenteous funeral tears have washed And the proud forms, by battle gashed, The neighing troop, the flashing blade, The charge, the dreadful cannonade, Like the fierce northern hurricane That sweeps his great plateau, Who heard the thunder of the fray Was "Victory or Death." Long had the doubtful conflict raged The vengeful blood of Spain; Not long, our stout old chieftain knew, 'Twas in that hour his stern command The nation's flag to save. 2239 By rivers of their fathers' gore And well he deemed the sons would pour Their lives for glory too. Full many a norther's breath has swept O'er Angostura's plain, And long the pitying sky has wept Above its mouldered slain. That frowned o'er that dread fray. Sons of the Dark and Bloody Ground, Where stranger steps and tongues resound Your own proud land's heroic soil Shall be your fitter grave; She claims from war his richest spoil The ashes of her brave. Thus 'neath their parent turf they rest, Far from the gory field, Borne to a Spartan mother's breast On many a bloody shield; The sunshine of their native sky Smiles sadly on them here, And kindred eyes and hearts watch by The heroes' sepulchre. Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead! Nor shall your story be forgot, Roll-Call Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone In deathless song shall tell, When many a vanished age hath flown, Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight, Nor Time's remorseless doom, Shall dim one ray of glory's light 2241 Theodore O'Hara [1820-1867] ROLL-CALL "CORPORAL GREEN!" the Orderly cried; "Here!" was the answer loud and clear, From the lips of a soldier standing near,— And "Here!" was the word the next replied. "Cyrus Drew!"-then a silence fell; This time no answer followed the call; Only his rear-man had seen him fall: Killed or wounded-he could not tell. There they stood in the failing light, While slowly gathered the shades of night." The fern on the hill-sides was splashed with blood, For the foe had crossed from the other side, "Herbert Cline!”—At the call there came "Ezra Kerr!"-and a voice answered "Here!" They were brothers, these two; the sad wind And a shudder crept through the cornfield near. "Ephraim Deane!"-then a soldier spoke: "Deane carried our regiment's colors," he said, "When our ensign was shot; I left him dead Just after the enemy wavered and broke. "Close to the roadside his body lies; I paused a moment and gave him to drink; For that company's roll, when called at night, DIRGE FOR ONE WHO FELL IN BATTLE ROOM for a Soldier! lay him in the clover; He loved the fields, and they shall be his cover; Make his mound with hers who called him once her lover: Where the rain may rain upon it, Where the sun may shine upon it, Bear him to no dismal tomb under city churches; Take him to the fragrant fields, by the silver birches, Where the whippoorwill shall mourn, where the oriole perches: • Make his mound with sunshine on it, Where the bee will dine upon it, Where the lamb hath lain upon it, And the rain will rain upon it. Dirge for a Soldier 2243 Busy as the busy bee, his rest should be the clover; Where the sun may shine upon it, Sunshine in his heart, the rain would come full often Where the wind may sigh upon it, "Captain or Colonel,"-whatever invocation nation! Long as the sun doth shine upon it Shall grow the goodly pine upon it, Long as the stars do gleam upon it Shall Memory come to dream upon it. Thomas William Parsons [1819-1892] DIRGE FOR A SOLDIER CLOSE his eyes; his work is done! Rise of moon, or set of sun, Lay him low, lay him low, In the clover or the snow! What cares he? he cannot know: As man may, he fought his fight, Proved his truth by his endeavor; Let him sleep in solemn night, Sleep forever and forever. |