The dreadful calm before the storm.
Those silent batteries seem to say:
“We’re waiting for you, men in gray!”
Each anxious gunner knows full well
Why every shot of his must tell
On Pickett’s charge at Gettysburg.
’Tis Pickett’s charge at Gettysburg:
What grander tableau can there be
Than rhythmic swing of infantry
At shouldered arms, with flashing steel?