Chapter XIX.
COLD HARBOR.
Ah me! I see it all again,
The frenzied battle’s formless form,
The reeling field, alive with men,
The thunderous flashes through the storm!
The rifle’s crack, the hiss, the thud;
The sizz of the on-hurtling shell;
The dying cry; the trickling blood—
The sights, the sounds we knew too well.