Onward the long wave rolled, steadily, steadily onward,
Over the hollowing plain, and the trampled green of the cornfields.
Stood the two armies at gaze; until, from the stronghold of Howard,
Hill of the Graves, and the ridge, and the shoulder of Round-Top the Lesser,
Burst the leashed lightnings anew, and the roars of the thunder ironic!
Forth from their hot black dens in the gorge of the cavernous cannon,—
Guns new-thrust into place,—freed for the service appointed,
Tigerish, Death and Fire leaped on the open arena.
One low sound was heard through the tumult, and deeply remembered,
Human, the moan of life mowed as the grass of the meadow.