IN THE SHADOW OF ROUND TOP. 379 



From the bristling height of Round Top to the rebel-peopled plain 

 Comes a sound of crashing thunder ; comes a sheet of leaden rain ; 

 As red Death, with arms Briarean, starts his Sickles in the grain, 

 On the rebel-peopled plain. 



Was that leader simply reckless that he thus destruction wooed ? 

 Did he disobey his orders, or were they misunderstood ? 

 Profitless the queries, for he paid the forfeit with his blood ; 

 That is not misunderstood. 



Elbow touching, centre dressing, on its colors rent and scarred. 

 See that bright-hued line advancing, its allignment yet unmarred ! 

 See that Zouave battling fearless in the thinning color-guard ! 

 Round the flag so rent and scarred. 



He, our hero, leaving kindred, leaving friends behind him far. 

 Cared for naught beside his country, sought no gleaming shoulder-bar ; 

 But, beside the humblest private, marched enlisted for the war. 

 Friends and kin behind afar. 



Reigning in the social circle, glowing with poetic fire 



Was his mind and stored with knowledge, yet expanding, broader 



higher. 

 Sore must be that Nation's sufferings, that such sacrifice require, 

 Myriad lives through blood and fire. 



Home affection sought to stay him ; love of country urged him on. 

 Duty warred on inclination ; short the struggle — duty won. 

 And a letter, wrote in sorrow, came to tell that he had gone. 

 Short the struggle — duty won ! 



'^obly done that duty, whether 'neath the annalled conflicts roar, 

 Or the unwritten picket skirmish, march or bivouac, he bore 

 In his soul a glow flamboyant as the tortured martyrs wore 

 In the dreadful days of yore. 



Now the rage and grim of battle mask his glowing countenance. 

 As he charges with his comrades, with the colors in advance. 

 War's dread horrors all around him pass unheeded to his glance. 

 So the flag was in advance. 



