EMILY MONDAY

126

To fight aloud, is very brave —

But gallanter, I know

Who charge within the bosom

The Cavalry of Woe —

Who win, and nations do not see —

Who fall — and none observe —

Whose dying eyes, no Country

Regards with patriot love —

We trust, in plumed procession

For such, the Angels go —

Rank after Rank, with even feet —

And Uniforms of Snow.