Never mind me, Uncle Jared, never mind my bleeding breast! |
They are charging in the valley and you're needed with the rest. |
All the day long from its dawning till you saw your kinsman fall, |
You have answered fresh and fearless to our brave commander's call; |
And I would not rob my country of your gallant aid to-night, |
Though your presence and your pity stay my spirit in its flight. |
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All along that quivering column see the death steed trampling down |
Men whose deeds this day are worthy of a kingdom and a crown. |
Prithee hasten, Uncle Jared, what's the bullet in my breast |
To that murderous storm of fire raining tortures on the rest? |
See! the bayonets flash and falter—look! the foe begins to win; |
See! oh, see our falling comrades! God! the ranks are closing in. |
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Hark! there's quickening in the distance and a thundering in the air, |
Like the roaring of a lion just emerging from his lair. |
There's a cloud of something yonder fast unrolling like a scroll— |
Quick! oh, quick! if it be succor that can save the cause a soul! |
Look! a thousand thirsty bayonets are flashing down the vale, |
And a thousand thirsty riders dashing onward like a gale! |
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Raise me higher, Uncle Jared, place the ensign in my hand! |
I am strong enough to float it while you cheer that flying band; |
Louder! louder! shout for Freedom with prolonged and vigorous breath— |
Shout for Liberty and Union, and the victory over death!— |
See! they catch the stirring numbers and they swell them to the breeze— |
Cap and plume and starry banner waving proudly through the trees. |
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Mark our fainting comrades rally, see that drooping column rise! |
I can almost see the fire newly kindled in their eyes. |
Fresh for conflict, nerved to conquer, see them charging on the foe— |
Face to face with deadly meaning—shot and shell and trusty blow. |
See the thinned ranks wildly breaking—see them scatter to the sun— |
I can die, Uncle Jared, for the glorious day is won! |
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But there's something, something pressing with a numbness on my heart, |
And my lips with mortal dumbness fail the burden to impart. |
Oh I tell you, Uncle Jared, there is something back of all |
That a soldier cannot part with when he heeds his country's call! |
Ask the mother what, in dying, sends her yearning spirit back |
Over life's rough, broken marches, where she's pointed out the track. |
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Ask the dear ones gathered nightly round the shining household hearth, |
What to them is dearer, better, than the brightest things of earth, |
Ask that dearer one whose loving, like a ceaseless vestal flame, |
Sets my very soul a-glowing at the mention of her name; |
Ask her why the loved in dying feels her spirit linked with his |
In a union death but strengthens, she will tell you what it is. |
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And there's something, Uncle Jared, you may tell her if you will— |
That the precious flag she gave me, I have kept unsullied still. |
And—this touch of pride forgive me—where death sought our gallant host— |
Where our stricken lines were weakest, there it ever waved the most. |
Bear it back and tell her fondly, brighter, purer, steadier far, |
'Mid the crimson tide of battle, shone my life's fast setting star. |
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But forbear, dear Uncle Jared, when there's something more to tell, |
When her lips with rapid blanching bid you answer how I fell; |
Teach your tongue the trick of slighting, though 'tis faithful to the rest, |
Lest it say her brother's bullet is the bullet in my breast; |
But if it must be that she learn it despite your tenderest care, |
'Twill soothe her bleeding heart to know my bayonet pricked the air. |
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Life is ebbing, Uncle Jared, my enlistment endeth here; |
Death, the Conqueror, has drafted—I can no more volunteer— |
But I hear the roll call yonder and I go with willing feet— |
Through the shadows of the valley where victorious armies meet, |
Raise the ensign, Uncle Jared, let its dear folds o'er me fall— |
Strength and Union for my country—and God's banner over all. |