Where we lay the night before, on the cold and cheerless sod
But when the morning came, when the welcome sun arose,
We saw—each seeming in a dream—the files of flying foes;
And we lay on one another’s breasts—clasped one another’s hand,
And wept with joy, for God had saved our gallant little band —
God, and our courage, for we fought like heroes all will say
Who read in coming centuries the records of the fray.
