Where he fell shall be sunshine as bright as his name, And the grass where he slept shall be green as his fame; For the gold of the pen and the steel of the sword Write his deeds, in his blood, on the land he adored-- “_Column! Forward!_” And the soul of our comrade shall sweeten the air, And the flowers and the grass-blades his memory up-bear; While the breath of his genius, like music in leaves, With the corn-tassels whispers, and sings in the sheaves-- “_Column! Forward!_” AUGUSTINE JOSEPH HICKEY DUGANNE. 19 THE CHARGE BY THE FORD Eighty and nine, with their captain, Rode on the enemy’s track. Rode in the gray of the morning-- Nine of the ninety came back. Slow rose the mist from the river, Lighter each moment the way; Careless and tearless and fearless Galloped they on to the fray. Singing in tune, how the scabbards Loud on the stirrup-irons rang! Clinked as the men rose in saddle, Fell, as they sank, with a clang. What is it moves by the river, Jaded, and weary, and weak? Graybacks,--a cross on their banner,-- Yonder the foe whom they seek. Silence! they see not, they hear not, Tarrying there by the marge; _Forward! draw sabre! trot! gallop!_ _Charge!_ like a hurricane--_Charge!_ Ah, ’twas a man-trap infernal!-- Fire like the deep pit of hell! Volley on volley to meet them, Mixed with the gray rebels’ yell. Ninety had ridden to battle, Tracing the enemy’s track,-- Ninety had ridden to battle; Nine of the ninety came back. Honor the name of the ninety! Honor the heroes who came Scathless from five hundred muskets, Safe from the lead-bearing flame! Eighty and one of the troopers Lie on the field of the slain,-- Lie on the red field of honor; Honor the nine who remain! Cold are the dead there, and gory, There where their life-blood was spilt; Back come the living, each sabre Red from the point to the hilt. Up with three cheers and a “tiger!” Let the flags wave as they come! Give them the blare of the trumpet! Give them the roll of the drum! THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH. (By special permission of the author, and of Harper and Brothers.) 20 THE LITTLE DRUMMER ’Tis of a little drummer, The story I shall tell; Of how he marched to battle, Of all that there befell. Out in the west with Lyon (For once the name was true!) For whom the little drummer beat His _rat-tat-too_. Our army rose at midnight, Ten thousand men as one, Each slinging off his knapsack And snatching up his gun. “_Forward!_” and off they started, As all good soldiers do, When the little drummer beats for them The _rat-tat-too_.