The clean stars came into the sky,
The perfect night was still;
Yet rose to heaven the old blood-cry
From the blockhouse under the hill.
NIGHT AT GETTYSBURG: DON C. SEITZ
By day Golgotha sleeps, but when night comes
The army rallies to the beating drums;
Columns are formed and banners wave
O'er armies summoned from the grave.
The wheat field waves with reddened grain
And the wounded wail and writhe in pain.
The hard-held Bloody Angle drips anew
And Pickett charges with a ghostly crew,
While where the road to the village turns
Stands the tall shadow of old John Burns!
THE RIDERS: KATHERINE TYNAN
Rheims is down in fire and smoke,
The hour of God is at the stroke,
Round and round the ruined place,—
Jesus, Mary, give us grace!
There are two riders clad in mail
Silver as the moon is pale.
One is tall as a knight's spear,
The younger one is lowlier.