IN their ragged regimentals Stood the old Continentals, Yielding not; While the grenadiers were lunging, And like hailstones fell the plunging Cannon shot! Where the files Of the Isles, From the smoky night encampment, Bore the banner of the rampant Unicorn; And grummer, grummer, grummer, Rolled the "roll" of the drummer, Through the morn. Then with eyes to the front all, And with guns horizontal, Stood our sires; And the balls whistled deadly, And in flames flashing redly, Blazed the fires; As the swift Billows drift, Drove the dark battle breakers O'er the green sodded acres Of the plain; And louder, louder, louder, Cracked the black gunpowder, All amain! Then like smiths at their forges, Labored the red St. George's Cannoneers. And the villanous saltpetre Rung a fierce, discordant metre Round our ears; Like the roar On the shore, Rose the horse-guards' clangor, As they rode in roaring anger On our flanks; And higher, higher, higher, Burned the old-fashioned fire Through the ranks! Then the old-fashioned colonel Galloped through the white infernal Powder cloud, And his broad sword was swinging, And his brazen throat was ringing Trumpet loud! And the blue Bullets flew, And the trooper jackets redden At the touch of the leaden Rifle's breath! And rounder, rounder, rounder, Roared the iron six-pounder, Hurling death! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO POEMS FROM THE WAR: 1 by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH SONNET TO THE AUTUMNAL MOON by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE MADRIGAL by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN OF MONEY by BARNABY (BARNABE) GOOGE HIS PRAYER TO BEN JONSON by ROBERT HERRICK THE RUNES ON WELAND'S SWORD by RUDYARD KIPLING ADDRESS TO A CHILD DURING A BOISTEROUS WINTER EVENING by DOROTHY WORDSWORTH |