There came a blinding flash, a deafening roar,
And dissonant cries of triumph and dismay;
Blood trickled down the river's reedy shore,
And with the dead he lay.
The morn broke in upon his solemn dream,
And still, with steady pulse and deepening eye,
‘Where bugles call,’ he said, ‘and rifles gleam,
I follow, though I die!’
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