———
Resaca de la Palma.
Once again was daylight dawning, when the shrill, awakening fife
Called our soldiers from their slumbers to the toils of martial life:
We were weary: some among us through the long and dreary night
Had traversed, like silent ghosts, the scene of Palo Alto’s fight —
For our wounded lay around us, who had struggled at our side,
Stemming with their human bodies Battle’s hurricane-like tide.
All were anxious, for we knew that, though our foes had flown the field,