Classic Poem

At last the thunders ceased, and from his feet,
And 'neath the overshadowing of his guns,
His cherished dream began its featuring —
His dream that trailed the heavens in travail vast.
There sat he as they moved, those heroes moved,
Those Southern gray-hued columns, down the slope
And out into the field; — Pickett's in front
Behind thick lines of skirmishers; — brigades
Close after, Kemper's, Garnett's, Armistead's; —
With Pettigrew to right, Wilcox to left,
The twain the flanks of the devoted host.

There sat he watching as they marched across
The road to Emmittsburg, and just beyond
Discerned the bristling fringe of musketry
Along the Stone Wall on the Blue-hued Ridge.
He watched his veterans pass 'neath shot and shell,
Each over comrade forms and trails of blood,
Un-wavering. On, his Virginians,
True to their history heroical,
Strode steadily and quickly. One by one
They fell, caught in the hurricane of fire
Sweeping from off the summit. Suddenly
There rose a wild fierce strain, a Southern cry,
A yell of fury, an exultant cheer.
'Twas that for which he waited as one waits
" He lives, he lives! " within the rooms of death.
And there across the Wall, upon the crest,
His men were rushing, fighting hand to hand,
Midst slaughter slaughtering. And as he heard
And saw, lo, there above the flame and smoke,
On the Stone Wall, among the Union guns,
Borne by the men of Pickett, proudly waved
The Blue Flag of Virginia.
" All the joy
That ever comes to soldier came to him
In that transcendent vision of his life.
Who saw him on his steed in that mad hour
Rise in the saddle, blaze with awful light
Of eyes and features, draw his charger's rein
Till the wild creature, wild as was his rider,
Reared as his master's towering spirit reared,
Beheld the mortal change to the Immortal,
With all the trailings of Olympus round him.