Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WITH CORSE AT ALLATOONA, by SAMUEL HAWKINS MARSHALL BYERS First Line: It was less than two thousand we numbered Last Line: "this morning up there on the hill." Subject(s): Allatoona Pass, Georgia; American Civil War; Atlanta Campaign (1864); Corse, John Murray (1835-1893); United States - History | ||||||||
IT was less than two thousand we numbered In the fort sitting up on the hill; That night not a soldier that slumbered; We watched by the starlight until Daybreak showed us all of their forces; About us their gray columns ran, To left and to right they were round us, Five thousand if there was a man. "Surrender your fort," bawled the rebel; "Five minutes I give, or you're dead." "Not a man," answered Corse, in his treble "Perhaps you can take us instead!" Then pealed forth their cannon infernal; We fought them outside of the pass, Two hours, the time seemed eternal; The dead lay in lines on the grass. But who cared for dead or for dying? The fort we were there to defend, And across from yon far mountain flying, Came a message, "Hold on to the end; Hold on to the fort." It was Sherman, Who signalled from Kenesaw's height, Far over the heads of our foemen, "Hold on -- I am coming to-night." Quick fluttered our flag to the signal, We answered him back with a will, And fired on the gray-coated rebels That charged up the slope of the hill. "Load double," cried Corse, "every cannon Who cares for their ten to our one?" We looked at the swift-coming rebels, And answered their yell with a gun. With the grape from our fort in their faces, They rush to the ramparts, but stop; Ah! few of the gray-columned army That day left alive at the top. On the parapets, too, lie our wounded, Each porthole a grave for the dead; No room for our cannon, the corpses Fill up the embrasures instead. Again through the cannon's red weather They charge up the hill and the pass, Their dead and our dead lie together Out there on the slope in the grass. A crash from our rifles -- they falter; A gleam from our steel -- it is by. "Recall and retreat," sound their bugles; We cheer from the fort as they fly. Once more and the signal is flying -- "How many the wounded and dead?" "Six hundred," says Corse, "with the dying," The blood streaming down from his head. "But what of that? Look! the old banner Shines out there as peaceful and still As if there had not been a battle This morning up there on the hill." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A VISIT TO GETTYSBURG by LUCILLE CLIFTON AFTER SPOTSYLVANIA COURT HOUSE by DAVID FERRY ACROSS THE LONG DARK BORDER by EDWARD HIRSCH WALT WHITMAN IN THE CIVIL WAR HOSPITALS by DAVID IGNATOW THE DAY OF THE DEAD SOLDIERS; MARY 30, 1869 by EMMA LAZARUS MANHATTAN, 1609 by EDWIN MARKHAM THE DECISION (APRIL 14, 1861) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE SPARROW HARK IN THE RAIN (ALEXANDER STEPHENS HEARS NEWS) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SHERMAN'S MARCH TO THE SEA by SAMUEL HAWKINS MARSHALL BYERS |
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