THE BATTLE FLAG AT SHENANDOAH.
Joaquin Miller
he tented field wore a wrinkled frown, - And the emptied church from the hill looked down
- On the emptied road and the emptied town,
- That summer Sunday morning.
- And here was the blue, and there was the gray;
- And a wide green valley rolled away
- Between where the battling armies lay,
- That sacred Sunday morning.
- And Custer sat, with impatient will,
- His restless horse, mid his troopers still,
- As he watched with glass from the oak-set hill,
- That silent Sunday morning.
- Then fast he began to chafe and to fret;
- "There s a battle flag on a bayonet
- Too close to my own true soldiers set
- For peace this Sunday morning! "
- "Ride over, some one," he haughtily said,
- "And bring it to me! Why, in bars blood red
- And in stars I will stain it, and overhead
- Will flaunt it this Sunday morning! "
- Then a West-born lad, pale-faced and slim,
- Rode out, and touching his cap to him,
- Swept down, swept swift as Spring swallows swim,
- That anxious Sunday morning.
- On, on through the valley! up, up, anywhere!
- That pale-faced lad like a bird through the air
- Kept on till he climbed to the banner there
- That bravest Sunday morning!
- And he caught up the flag, and around his waist
- He wound it tight, and he turned in haste
- And swift his perilous route retraced
- That daring Sunday morning.
- All honor and praise to the trusty steed
- Ah! boy, and banner, and all God speed
- God s pity for you in your hour of need
- This deadly Sunday morning.
- 0, deadly shot! and O, shower of lead!
- O, iron rain on the brave, bare head!
- Vhy, even the leaves from the trees fall dead
- This dreadful Sunday morning!
- But he gains the oaks! Men cheer in their might!
- Brave Custer is laughing in his delight!
- Why, he is embracing the boy outright
- This glorious Sunday morning!
- But, soft! Not a word has the pale boy said.
- He unwinds the flag. It is starred, striped, red
- With his heart's best blood; and he falls down dead,
- In God's still Sunday morning.
- So, wrap this flag to his soldier's breast;
- Into stars and stripes it is stained and blest;
- And under the oaks let him rest and rest
- Till God's great Sunday morning.