Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE GRAND ADVANCE, by FRANK HARRISON GASSAWAY


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE GRAND ADVANCE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: When war's wild clamor filled the land, when porter swept the sea
Last Line: His lips still smiled—for victory had kissed them ere he died!
Alternate Author Name(s): Derrick Dogg
Subject(s): War


WHEN War's wild clamor filled the land, when Porter swept the sea,
When Grant held Vicksburg by the throat and Halleck strove with Lee,
It chanced that Custer's cavaliers—the flower of all our horse—
Held Hood's brigade at Carroll's Ford, where still it strove to cross.
Two days the stubborn skirmish raged—the lines still closer grew;
And now the rebels gained an inch, and now the men in blue,
Until at length the Northern swords hemmed in the footmen gray,
And both sides girded for the shock that won or lost the day.
'Twas scarce a lance's length between the torn and slipp'ry banks
O'er which our neighing squadrons faced the hard pressed Southern ranks.
And while Hood's sullen ambush crouched along the river's marge,
Their pickets brought a prisoner in, captured in some brief charge.
This was a stripling trumpeter, a mere lad—fitter far
To grace some loving mother's hearth than these grim scenes of war.
But still, with proud, defiant mien, he bore his soldier's crest,
And smiled above the shattered arm that hung upon his breast.
For was not he Staff Trumpeter of Custer's famed brigade?
Did not through him the General speak, in camp, or on parade?
'Twas his to form the battle line. His was the clarion peal
That launched upon the frighted foe that surging sea of steel!
They led him to the outer posts within the tangled wood,
Beyond whose shade, on chafing steeds, his waiting comrades stood.
They placed his bugle in his hands (a musket level nigh),
"Now, Yankee, sound a loud 'Retreat,'" they whispered. "Sound—or die!"
The lad looked up a little space—a lark's song sounded near,
As though to ask why men had brought their deeds of hatred here.
High in the blue the South wind swept a single cloud of foam,
A messenger, it seemed to him, to bear his last thought home;
And casting t'ward the Northland far one sad, but steadfast, glance,
He raised the bugle to his lips and blew—the "Grand Advance!"
A bullet cut the pean short—but, ere his senses fled,
He heard that avalanche of hoofs thunder above his head!
He saw his comrades' sabres sweep resistless o'er the plain,
And knew his trumpet's loyal note had sounded not in vain.
For—when they laid him in his rest (his bugle by his side),
His lips still smiled—for Victory had kissed them ere he died!





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net