IN THE SHADOW OF ROUND TOP. 381 



Living all his young life over, back his wandering thoughts are sent, 

 With his kin his thrilling heart-chords in a loving maze are blent ; 

 To the scenes beside the river, where his school-boy days were spent, 

 Back his wandering thoughts are sent. 



Forward to the speculative future soon unveiled to be. 

 Longing for the dread transition in his helpless agony, 

 That would tear aside the veiling of a life-long mystery. 

 Which alone the dead can see. 



Now his thoughts ring out harmonious to the distant battle's chime. 

 Now they well from out his bosom in a weird and mournful rhyme, 

 As the golden grains of memory trickle through the sieve of time, 

 Full of Aveird and mournful rhyme. 



Still the invader holds possession ; still the wounded plaintive moan ; 

 Still the rigid, staring corpses look straight up with eyes of stone 

 At the moon which calm, unpitying, stalks her star-lit path alone. 

 Heedless as those eyes of stone. 



Now the glowing hands of morning tear the shimmering veil of night 

 From the earth's red riven bosom ; and at noon, from height to height. 

 Rings again the clash of armies as they grapple in their might, 

 In the war of Wrong and Right. 



And again the spiteful rifle spits its fire from left to right ; 

 Yet again the yawning cannon gives its hidden devil flight, 

 Till the war fiend, gorged to fulness, grants unwillingly respite, 

 In the fight 'twixt Wrong and Right. 



Baffled is the dread invasion. Echoing now from hill to hill. 

 Hoarsely sounding Jubilates all the smoking welkin fill, 

 Till again the moonbeams shimmer, and the earth is hushed and still. 

 Silence covers vale and hill. 



Still the rebels hold that outpost ; still the thirsty wounded moan ; 

 Still those calm, unpassioned corpses glare straight up with eyes of 



stone ; 

 Still the moon, so phantom-ship-like, sails unheeding slowly on, 

 Heedless as those eyes of stone. 



