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And full in the midst rose Keenan, tall,

In the gloom like a martyr awaiting his fall,
While the circle-stroke of his saber, swung

Round his head, like a halo there, luminous hung.

Line after line, aye, whole platoons,

Struck dead in their saddles, of brave dragoons,
By the maddened horses were onward borne,
And into the vortex flung, trampled and torn;
As Keenan fought with his men, side by side.
So they rode, till there were no more to ride.

And over them, lying there shattered and mute,
What deep echo rolls?-'T is a death-salute
From the cannon in place; for, heroes, you braved
Your fate not in vain; the army was saved!

Over them now,-year following year,—
Over their graves the pine cones fall,

And the whippoorwill chants his specter call;
But they stir not again, they raise no cheer;

They have ceased. But their glory shall never cease,
Nor their light be quenched in the light of peace.

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
With the slanted muskets the soldiers bore,

And the scared earth muttered and shook to feel
The tramp and the rumble of Longstreet's 2 Corps;
The bands were blaring The Bonny Blue Flag,

And the banners borne were a motley many;
And watching the gray column wind and drag
Was a slip of a girl-we'll call her Jenny.

A slip of a girl-what needs her name?

With her cheeks aflame and her lips aquiver,
As she leaned and looked with a loyal shame
On the steady flow of the steely river:
Till a storm grew black in her hazel eyes

Time had not tamed, nor a lover sighed for;
And she ran and she girded her, apron-wise,
With the flag she loved and her brothers died 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;
Supple as steel and brown as leather,
Rusty and dusty of hat and shoe,

Wonted to hunger and war and weather;
Peerless, fearless, an army's flower!
Sterner soldiers the world saw never,
Marching lightly, that summer hour,

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 she sobbed, till the roll of the rumbling gun
And the swinging tramp of the marching men
Were a memory only, and day was done,

And the stars in the fold of the blue again.
(Thank God that the day of the sword is done,
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,
And with baby palms folded in hers she cried:
"If I have but one prayer, dear, crucified

Christ-save France!

"But if I have two, then, by Mary's grace,
Carry me safe to the meeting-place,

Let me look once again on my dear love's face,
Save him for France!"

She crooned to her boy: "Oh, how glad he'll be,
Little three-months old, to set eyes on thee!
For, 'Rather than gold, would I give,' wrote he,
'A son to France.'

"Come, now, be good, little stray sauterelle,2
For we're going by-by to thy papa Michel,
But I'll not say where for fear thou wilt tell,
Little pigeon of France!

"Six days' leave and a year between!

But what would you have? In six days clean,
Heaven was made," said Franceline,

"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,
To the marching troops in the street she came,
And she held high her boy like a taper flame
Burning for France.

Fresh from the trenches and gray with grime,
Silent they marched like a pantomime;

"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!"

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