How we yearned for the fray where the battle-reek shone!
It was forward, not halt, stirred the fire in our veins,
When our horses’ feet beat to the clink of the reins;
It was charge, not retreat, we were wonted to hear;
It was charge, not retreat, that was sweet to the ear;
Those who rode with Kilpatrick had never felt fear!
At last the word came, and troop tossed it to troop;
Two squadrons deployed with a falcon-like swoop;
While swiftly the others in echelons formed,
For there, just ahead, was the line to be stormed.