THAT LAST WILD CHARGE AT GETTYSBURG!
That last wild charge to scale the height—
It was a grand, yet awful sight!
Though thirty years have passed away,
It seems to me but yesterday—
That hour we stood on gory banks
And watched Lee's gray-clad gleaming ranks
Charge out across the peaceful plain,
From whence they turned not back again.
It was a grand, yet awful sight!
Though thirty years have passed away,
It seems to me but yesterday—
That hour we stood on gory banks
And watched Lee's gray-clad gleaming ranks
Charge out across the peaceful plain,
From whence they turned not back again.
Fair Gettysburg lies far below,
Beside the creeks still peaceful flow,
Upon the meadows o'er the way
The harvesters are making hay,
And low of cattle from the hills
And liquid laughter from the rills
And song of bird from near and far
Sound not like harbingers of war.
Beside the creeks still peaceful flow,
Upon the meadows o'er the way
The harvesters are making hay,
And low of cattle from the hills
And liquid laughter from the rills
And song of bird from near and far
Sound not like harbingers of war.
Out of the South, with roll of drum,
The blue and gray-clad armies come,
Creeping along in silent files,
Marching abreast for sixty miles,
Watching each other day and night—
Watching and waiting for the fight.
Thus came they when the sun went down,
And camped about the little town.
The blue and gray-clad armies come,
Creeping along in silent files,
Marching abreast for sixty miles,
Watching each other day and night—
Watching and waiting for the fight.
Thus came they when the sun went down,
And camped about the little town.
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