And full in the midst rose Keenan, tall, In the gloom like a martyr awaiting his fall, Round his head, like a halo there, luminous hung. Line after line, aye, whole platoons, Struck dead in their saddles, of brave dragoons, And over them, lying there shattered and mute, Over them now,-year following year,— And the whippoorwill chants his specter call; They have ceased. But their glory shall never cease, The rush of their charge is resounding still That saved the army at Chancellorsville. 65 GREENCASTLE JENNY 1 HELEN GRAY CONE Oh, Greencastle streets were a stream of steel And the scared earth muttered and shook to feel And the banners borne were a motley many; A slip of a girl-what needs her name? With her cheeks aflame and her lips aquiver, Time had not tamed, nor a lover sighed for; Out of the doorway they saw her start (Pickett's Virginians were marching through), The hot little foolish hero-heart Armored with stars and the sacred blue. Clutching the folds of red and white Stood she and bearded those ranks of theirs, Shouting shrilly with all her might, "Come and take it, the man that dares!" 1. The incident narrated in the poem occurred as the Confederate army was on its way towards Gettysburg. The name of the girl is not known. 2. Longstreet. A brilliant Confederate general. 3. Pickett. The Confederate general who led in the famous charge at Gettysburg, after which battle the Confederate army was compelled to retreat. Pickett's Virginians were passing through; Wonted to hunger and war and weather; To death and failure and fame forever. Rose from the rippling ranks a cheer; Pickett saluted, with bold eyes beaming, Sweeping his hat like a cavalier, With his tawny locks in the warm wind streaming. Fierce little Jenny! her courage fell, As the firm lines flickered with friendly laughter, And Greencastle streets gave back the yell That Gettysburg slopes gave back soon after. So they cheered for the flag they fought With the generous glow of the stubborn fighter, Loving the brave as the brave men ought, And never a finger was raised to fright her: So they marched, though they knew it not, Through the fresh green June to the shock infernal, To the hell of the shell and the plunging shot, And the charge that has won them a name eternal. And she felt at last, as she hid her face, There had lain at the root of her childish daring A trust in the men of her own brave race, And a secret faith in the foe's forbearing. And the stars in the fold of the blue again. 66 VIVE LA FRANCE!1 CHARLOTTE HOLMES CRAWFORD Franceline rose in the dawning gray, And her heart would dance though she knelt to pray, For her man Michel had holiday, Fighting for France. She offered her prayer by the cradle-side, Christ-save France! "But if I have two, then, by Mary's grace, Let me look once again on my dear love's face, She crooned to her boy: "Oh, how glad he'll be, "Come, now, be good, little stray sauterelle,2 "Six days' leave and a year between! But what would you have? In six days clean, "Heaven and France." 1. Vive la France. Long live France! Written in 1916. Sauterelle. Grasshopper. 2. She came to the town of the nameless name, Fresh from the trenches and gray with grime, "But what need of music? My heart beats time— Vive la France!" His regiment comes. Oh, then where is he? "There is dust in my eyes, for I cannot see,— Is that my Michel to the right of thee, Soldier of France?" Then out of the ranks a comrade fell,"Yesterday 'twas a splinter of shell And he whispered thy name, did thy poor Michel, Dying for France." The tread of the troops on the pavement throbbed Like a woman's heart of its last joy robbed, As she lifted her boy to the flag, and sobbed: "Vive la France!" |