O Soldier of our common land,
'Tis thine to bear that blade
Loose in the sheath, or firm in hand,
But ever unafraid.
When foreign foes assail our right,
One nation trusts to thee—
To wield it well in worthy fight—
The sword of Meade and Lee!
James Jeffrey Roche.
Lee commenced his retreat next morning, and was able to gain the Potomac, with his whole train, virtually without molestation. But the North was too rejoiced by the withdrawal of the invaders to mourn at their escape.
THE BATTLE-FIELD
GETTYSBURG
Those were the conquered, still too proud to yield—
These were the victors, yet too poor for shrouds!
Here scarlet Slaughter slew her countless crowds
Heaped high in ranks where'er the hot guns pealed.
The brooks that wandered through the battlefield
Flowed slowly on in ever-reddening streams;
Here where the rank wheat waves and golden gleams,
The dreadful squadrons, thundering, charged and reeled.
Within the blossoming clover many a bone
Lying unsepulchred, has bleached to white;
While gentlest hearts that only love had known,
Have ached with anguish at the awful sight;
And War's gaunt Vultures that were lean, have grown
Gorged in the darkness in a single night!
Lloyd Mifflin.
Among the thousands who took part in that terrific three days' struggle none was more remarkable than old [John Burns], a veteran of the War of 1812 and of the Mexican War, who, rejected at the outbreak of the Civil War on account of his age, nevertheless shouldered his rifle and helped repel the invaders, when they approached his home at Gettysburg.
JOHN BURNS OF GETTYSBURG