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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 6. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 106 (search)
y Robinette, With a rush, their feet they set On the logs of our parapet, And waved their bit of a flag-- What could be finer or braver! But our cross-fire stunned them in flank, They melted, rank after rank-- (O'er them, with terrible poise, Our Bird did circle and wheel!) Their whole line began to waver-- Now for the bayonet, boys! On them with the cold steel! Ah! well-you know how it ended-- We did for them, there and then, But their pluck, throughout, was splendid. (As I said before, I cony and many a day O'er charge and storm hath he wheeled-- Foray and foughten-field-- Tramp, and volley, and rattle!-- Over crimson trench and turf, Over climbing clouds of surf, Through tempest and cannon-rack, Have his terrible pinions whirled-- (A thousand fields of battle! A million leagues of foam!) But our Bird shall yet come back, He shall soar to his eyrie-home-- And his thunderous wings be furled, In the gaze of a gladdened world, On the Nation's loftiest Dome. H. H. B. December, 1862.