’Tis Pickett’s charge at Gettysburg:
How terrible it is to see
Great armies making history:
Long lines of muskets belching flame!
No need of gunners taking aim
When from that thunder-cloud of smoke
The lightning kills at every stroke!
If there’s a place resembling hell,
’Tis where, ’mid shot and bursting shell,
Stalks Carnage, arm in arm with Death,