The High Tide at Gettysburg
By Will Henry Thompson (1848-1918) |
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A cloud possessed
the hollow field,
The gathering battle's smoky shield:
Athwart the gloom the lightning flashed,
And through the
cloud some horsemen dashed,
And from the heights the
thunder pealed.
Then, at the brief command of Lee,
Moved out that matchless infantry,
With Pickett leading
grandly down,
To rush against the roaring crown
Of
those dread heights of destiny.
Far heard above the
angry guns
A cry across the tumult runs,--
The voice
that rang from Shilo's woods
And Chickamauga's solitudes,
The fierce South cheering on her sons!
Ah, how the
withering tempest blew
Against the front of Pettigrew!
A Khamsin wind that scorched and singed
Like that
infernal flame that fringed
The British squares at
Waterloo!
A thousand fell where Kemper led;
A
thousand died where Garnett bled:
In blinding flame and
strangling smoke
Their remnant through the batteries
broke
And crossed the works with Armistead.
"Once
more in Glory's van with me!"
Virginia cried to
Tennessee;
"We two together, come what may,
Shall
stand upon these works to-day!"
(The reddest day in
history.)
Brave Tennessee! In reckless way
Virginia heard her comrade say:
"Close round this rent
and riddled rag!"
What time she set her battle-flag
Amid the guns of Doubleday.
But who shall break the
guards that wait
Before the awful face of Fate?
The
tattered standards of the South
Were shriveled at the
cannon's mouth,
And all her hopes were desolate.
In vain the Tennessean set
His breast against the
bayonet;
In vain Virginia charged and raged,
A tigress
in her wrath uncaged,
Till all the hill was red and wet!
Above the bayonets, mixed and crossed,
Men saw a
gray, gigantic ghost
Receding through the battle-cloud,
And heard across the tempset loud
The death-cry of a
nation lost!
The brave went down! Without disgrace
They leaped to Ruin's red embrace;
They heard Fame's
thunders wake,
And saw the dazzling sun-burst break
In
smiles on Glory's bloody face!
They fell, who lifted
up a hand
And bade the sun in heaven to stand;
They
smote and fell, who set the bars
Against the progress of
the stars,
And stayed the march of Motherland!
They stood, who saw the future come
On through the
fight's delirium;
They smote and stood, who held the hope
Of nations on that slippery slope
Amid the cheers of
Christendom.
God lives! He forged the iron will
That clutched and held that trembling hill!
God lives and
reigns! He built and lent
The heights for freedom's
battlement
Where floats her flag in triumph still!
Fold up the banners! Smelt the guns!
Love rules. Her
gentler purpose runs.
A mighty mother turns in tears
The pages of her battle years,
Lamenting all her fallen
sons! |
By
Will Henry Thompson (1848-1918)
Listed March 26, 2013 |
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