Gettysburg

O Pride of the days in prime of the

Now trebled in great renown,

When before the ark of our holy

Fell Dagon down-Dagon foredoomed, who, armed and targed,

Never his impious heart

Beyond that hour;

God walled his power,

And there the last invader charged.

He charged, and in that charge

His all of hate and all of fire;

He sought to blast us in his scorn,

And wither us in his ire.

Before him went the shriek of shells-Aerial screamings, taunts and yells;

Then the three waves in flashed

Surged, but were met, and back they set:

Pride was repelled by sterner pride,

And Right is a strong-hold yet.

Before our lines it seemed a

Which wild September gales have

With havoc on wreck, and dashed

Pale crews unknown-Men, arms, and steeds.

The evening

Died on the face of each lifeless one,

And died along the winding marge of

And searching-parties lone.

Sloped on the hill the mounds were green,

Our centre held that place of graves,

And some still hold it in their swoon,

And over these a glory waves.

The warrior-monument, crashed in fight,

Shall soar transfigured in loftier light,

A meaning ampler bear;

Soldier and priest with hymn and

Have laid the stone, and every

Shall rest in honor there.