Page:Fifes and Drums, Poems of America at War, Vigilantes, 1917.djvu/114

108

Perhaps his shoulder brushed your own

Or he slept last night by you.

My fathers followed Washington

Into the forests dim,

The blood of Warren at Bunker Hill

In my veins runs from him,

When Perry crossed from ship to ship

They bent their arms to row,

They faced the Mexicans' livid hail

In the shattered Alamo.

The Susquehanna knew their tents,

They perished at Bull Run,

Shenandoah saw our dead

Staring at the sun;

We marched with Sherman to the sea,

Starved at Andersonville,

And one of us died by the barbed-wire fence

Under San Juan Hill.