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From the wooded crest of Round Top, north to Seminary Ridge, 

 From its sulphur-shrouded ramparts east to Wolf Hill's rocky ledge 

 Rolls the thunder of the conflict to the far horizon's edge ; 

 Echoing loud from ridge to ridge. 



Crimson horrors mar their outlines ; seething vapors veil the sky ; 

 Cannon-booming, musket-rattle, yells and wailing mount on high ; 

 Ushered in with drum and trumpet march the birthdays of July, 

 While the death-mist veils the sky. 



Back and forth fly iron shuttles, warps phantasmal mark their way 

 Through a woof of lines of battle, tangled threads of Blue and Gray. 

 Freedom's shroud or shroud of Treason weaves a thunderous loom to-day 

 From the woof of Blue and Gray 



How the loyal Nation trembles through that bloody battle-week ! 

 How the fates of sons and brothers kindred pale and trembling seek ! 

 As bewildering, wire-borne voices from the dinning conflict speak. 

 Through that dreadful battle-week. 



Telling how the Nation's heroes 'neath that bright midsummer's sun, 

 In their grand self-sacrificing suflTering, bleeding struggled on, 

 Till our banners waved triumphant : Gettysburg was lost and won, 

 Just as set the shrouded sun. 



(378) 



