Page:The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman, 1908.djvu/76

IN WAR TIME Had n't been sounded for nothing, after all;

And halting, to wait their movements, the column stood.

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"Then into squadrons we saw their ranks enlarge,

And slow and steady they moved to the charge,

Shaking the ground as they came in carbine-range.

'Front into line! March! Halt! Front!'

Our Colonel cried; and in squadrons, to meet the brunt,

We too from the walk to the trot our paces change:

'Gallop, march!'—and, hot for the fray,

Pistols and sabres drawn, we canter away.

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"Twenty rods over the slippery clover

We galloped as gayly as lady and lover;

Held the reins lightly, our good weapons tightly,

Five solid squadrons all shining and sightly;

Not too fast, half the strength of our brave steeds to wasten,

Not too slow, for the warmth of their fire made us hasten,

As it came with a rattle and opened the battle,

Tumbling from saddles ten fellows of mettle.

So the distance grew shorter, their sabres shone broader;

Then the bugle's wild blare and the Colonel's loud order,—

"!" and we sprang, while the far echo rang,

And their bullets, like bees, in our ears fiercely sang.

Forward we strode to pay what we owed,

Right at the head of their column we rode;

Together we dashed, and the air reeled and flashed;

Stirrups, sabres, and scabbards all shattered and crashed

As we cut in and out, right and left, all about,

Hand to hand, blow for blow, shot for shot, shout for shout,

Till the earth seemed to boil with the heat of our toil.

But in less than five minutes we felt them recoil,

Heard their shrill rally sound, and, like hares from the hound, 46