Ah, Gettysburg! whose murderous brigades
Met in the shambles of a horror-hell
Or rushed like demons in the jaws of death—
Thy most resistless riders were the shades
Of other erstwhile terribles who fell
Drawing the sword from its envenomed sheath.
In vain each other’s throats the blue and grey
Sprang at like wolves of Winter mad for flesh,
And yet unsated till the kill-lust leaped