98
A SONG FOR THE SOLDIERS.
Fifty rifles give flame, and the breasts of the heroes are shattered;
But falling, they plunge toward the fight, and their knives sink deep in the meadow!
"On to the rocks!" and the soldiers have done with their feelings of mercy—
But never a foe to meet them nor a shot from the deadly barrier.
First on the rocks the captain, with a cheer that died as he gave it,—
A cheer that was half a groan and a cry of admiration.
Awed stood the troopers who followed, and lowered their swords with their leader,
Homage of brave to the brave, saluting with souls and weapons;
There at their feet lay the foemen—every man dead on his rifle—
The two who had charged the troops were the last alive of the Cheyennes!
