All night the surgeons' torches went, The ghastly rows between.— All night with solemn step I paced The torn and bloody green. But who that fought in the big war Such dread sights have not seen?
At last the morning broke. The lark Sang in the merry skies As if to e'en the sleepers there It bade awake, and rise! Though naught but that last trump of all Could ope their heavy eyes.
And then once more with banners gay, Stretched out the long Brigade. Trimly upon the furrowed field The troops stood on parade, And bravely mid the ranks were closed The gaps the fight had made.
Not half the Twenty-second's men Were in their place that morn, And Corporal Dick, who yester-noon Stood six brave fellows on, Now touched my elbow in the ranks, For all between were gone.
Ah! who forgets that dreary hour When, as with misty eyes, To call the old familiar roll The solemn Sergeant tries,— One feels that thumping of the heart As no prompt voice replies.
And as in faltering tone and slow The last few names were said, Across the field some missing horse Toiled up with weary tread, It caught the Sergeant's eye, and quick Bay Billy's name he read.
Yes! there the old bay hero stood, All safe from battle's harms, And ere an order could be heard, Or the bugle's quick alarms, Down all the front, from end to end, The troops presented arms!
Not all the shoulder-straps on earth Could still our mighty cheer; And ever from that famous day, When rang the roll-call clear, Bay Billy's name was read, and then The whole line answered, "Here!"
Frank H. Gassaway.