Under the Beech-Tree

Excerpt from Under the Beech-Tree
The Charge
When the day was at its dawn golden glory,
And the mist began to melt in meadows low;
When the dream that all the night had told its story
Followed darkness as it fled before the glow, -
Then we heard the warning bugle fiercely blow.
First a single gun rang out, the silence breaking,
And a hundred answered it with sudden crack;
Then our bugle shrieked alarm, in terror waking,
Till a trumpet from below cried the attack,
In defiance and derision shouting back.
So we waited not to wake, but still half dreaming
Got to saddle in the crispy morning air;
All the valley with the mists of night was steaming,
Thick with flashes flaming starlike here and there,
And as light began to grow the flags shone fair.
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