Bearing between them this Herbert Kline,
Wounded and bleeding, to answer his name.
“Ezra Kerr!” and a voice answered, “here!”
“Hiram Kerr!”—but no man replied.
They were brothers, these two; the sad winds sighed,
And a shudder crept through the cornfield near.
“Ephraim Deane!”—then a soldier spoke:
“Deane carried our regiment’s colors,” he said;
“Where our ensign was shot, I left him dead,
Just after the enemy wavered and broke.