“And wilder still those billows of war
Thundered along the horizon’s bar,
And louder yet into Winchester rolled
The roar of that red sea uncontrolled,
Making the blood of the listener cold,
As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray
And Sheridan twenty miles away.
“But there is a road from Winchester town—
A good, broad highway leading down;
And there, through the flush of the morning light,