Back it led him to Marye’s slope, Where the shock and the fame he bore; And to green Moss-Neck it guided him-- Brief respite from throes of war: To the laurel glade by the Wilderness grim, Through climaxed victory naught shall dim, Even unto death it piloted him-- Stonewall followed his star. Its lead he followed in gentle ways Which never the valiant mar; A cap we sent him, bestarred, to replace The sun-scorched helm of war: A fillet he made of the shining lace Childhood’s laughing brow to grace-- Not his was a goldsmith’s star. O, much of doubt in after days Shall cling, as now, to the war; Of the right and the wrong they’ll still debate, Puzzled by Stonewall’s star: “Fortune went with the North elate” “Ay, but the south had Stonewall’s weight, And he fell in the South’s vain war.” Gettysburg. The Check. (July, 1863.) O pride of the days in prime of the months Now trebled in great renown, When before the ark of our holy cause Fell Dagon down-- Dagon foredoomed, who, armed and targed, Never his impious heart enlarged Beyond that hour; god walled his power, And there the last invader charged. He charged, and in that charge condensed His all of hate and all of fire; He sought to blast us in his scorn, And wither us in his ire. Before him went the shriek of shells-- Aerial screamings, taunts and yells; Then the three waves in flashed advance Surged, but were met, and back they set: Pride was repelled by sterner pride, And Right is a strong-hold yet. Before our lines it seemed a beach Which wild September gales have strown With havoc on wreck, and dashed therewith Pale crews unknown-- Men, arms, and steeds. The evening sun Died on the face of each lifeless one, And died along the winding marge of fight And searching-parties lone. Sloped on the hill the mounds were green, Our center held that place of graves, And some still hold it in their swoon, And over these a glory waves. The warrior-monument, crashed in fight,[8] Shall soar transfigured in loftier light, A meaning ampler bear; Soldier and priest with hymn and prayer Have laid the stone, and every bone Shall rest in honor there. The House-top. A Night Piece. (July, 1863.)