. The Ninth New York heavy artillery. A history of its organization, services in the defenses of Washington, marches, camps, battles, and muster-out ... and a complete roster of the regiment . was readyfor garnering. Late in the afternoon lifeless bodies plentifully bestrewed the samefield; the later reaper was Death. (Vide page 126.) The reapers are binding the yellow grain,The mocking-bird drops with an eddying strain,That pierces my heart with ecstatic pain,While I watch for his jubilant rising again,Over the hill. The sunlight shakes on the ripling flow,Of blue Monocacy gliding slow;Its mu
. The Ninth New York heavy artillery. A history of its organization, services in the defenses of Washington, marches, camps, battles, and muster-out ... and a complete roster of the regiment . was readyfor garnering. Late in the afternoon lifeless bodies plentifully bestrewed the samefield; the later reaper was Death. (Vide page 126.) The reapers are binding the yellow grain,The mocking-bird drops with an eddying strain,That pierces my heart with ecstatic pain,While I watch for his jubilant rising again,Over the hill. The sunlight shakes on the ripling flow,Of blue Monocacy gliding slow;Its murmuring waters caressing lowThe fleeting shadows that come and go,At zephyrs will. Such was the harvest the noontide brought,Sunny the field where the reapers wrought,Pleasant the sound that the west wind caught,And the beautiful laughing day was fraughtWith joyous a line thin and blue,There are hearts staunch and true,There are shots quick and loud,Then a pall of battle and shellMake a seething hellOf that field. Do comrades lag?That tattered flag With Company AGoes proudly on,While here and yon, Fate has sealedSome hearts so boldIn silence cold Along the REGIMENTAL BAXD. R. C. Barless. P. O. Hudson. John Van Liew. B. L. Avery. E. F. Moulton. C. F. Crowfoot. Geo. Klumpp. Geo. W. Bates. Ira Soule. Ira T. Soule. MISCELLANEOUS. 295 There the blue and gray are meeting,God in Heaven! the blue retreating!Fighting, fleeing, never seeingAught of sunny skies a twisted, broken ribbon Was that brave and gallant line,While the frightened sobbing riversTide is red like crimson wine. Where the mockbirds joyous music,Now the wailing cry of pain, And the shocked and shivering ether-Will it neer be still again? And what was the harvest the twilight grayIn pitiful shadows at close of the day,Enfolded and covered in silence away?Oh, sun of the morrow, I pray thee delayNor haste thee To look on the harvest the angel of woeHath reaped on this desolate
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