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Gettysburg

6
O Pride of the days in prime of the months

    Now trebled in great renown,

    When before the ark of our holy cause

    Fell Dagon down-

    Dagon foredoomed, who, armed and targed,

    Never his impious heart enlarged

    Beyond that hour; God walled his power,

    And there the last invader charged.

    He charged, and in that charge condensed

    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 advance

    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 beach

    Which wild September gales have strown

    With havoc on wreck, and dashed therewith

    Pale crews unknown-

    Men, arms, and steeds. The evening sun

    Died on the face of each lifeless one,

    And died along the winding marge of fight

    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 prayer

    Have laid the stone, and every bone

    Shall rest in honor there.

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