. The photographic history of the Civil War : thousands of scenes photographed 1861-65, with text by many special authorities . e emerge on the opposite hank, others arc just entering the ford— and blue and snowy white,The guidon Hags flutter gayly in the wind. Walt Whitman. ROLL-CALL Corporal Green! the Orderly cried; Here! was the answer loud and the lips of a soldier who stood neaiv And Here! was the word the next replied. Cyrus Drew! —then a silence fell;This time no answer followed the callOnly his rear-man had seen him fall: Killed or wounded—he could not tell. &


. The photographic history of the Civil War : thousands of scenes photographed 1861-65, with text by many special authorities . e emerge on the opposite hank, others arc just entering the ford— and blue and snowy white,The guidon Hags flutter gayly in the wind. Walt Whitman. ROLL-CALL Corporal Green! the Orderly cried; Here! was the answer loud and the lips of a soldier who stood neaiv And Here! was the word the next replied. Cyrus Drew! —then a silence fell;This time no answer followed the callOnly his rear-man had seen him fall: Killed or wounded—he could not tell. & There they stood in the failing light, These men of battle, with grave, dark plain to be read as open books. While slowly at Ik red the shades of night. V) The fern on the hillsides was splashed with hi 1. And down in the corn, where the poppies grew. Were redder stains than the poppies crimson-dyed was the rivers Hood. For the foe had crossed from the other day. in the face of a murderous fireThat swept them down in its terrible ire; And their life-blood went to color the tide. 136 l. KILLED OR WOUNDED—HE COULD NOT TELL As a companion to the sad lines of the poem Roll Call, this Confederate soldier, fallen on the field ofSpotsylvania, speaks more clearly than words. He is but one of l200,(H)0 killed and died of woundsduring the war; yet there is a whole world of pitifulness in his useless trappings, his crumpled hat,his loosened straps and haversack. Here the young soldier lies in the gathering twilight, while hiscompanions far away answer to their names. The empty canteen will never more wet the lips of theupturned face, nor shall the long musket dropped in the moment of falling speak again to the foe.


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Keywords: ., bookauthormillerfrancistrevelya, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910