Classic Poem

With dawn of the third day the hush of night
Prevailed o'er field and ridge, save for the end
Of the dark-halted struggle at Culp's Hill,
On until noon the ominous hush remained.

At length the stillness and the silence broke;
The Titans of the heights began their roar, —
Lee in the midst of his artillery,
His soul tempestuous beholding all
And hearing all and all the answering guns
Beyond the vale. The wild discordances
Were music to him, for they voiced his hope.
Though earth beneath him quaked convulsively,
And the hills shook with maddened vehemence,
His spirit was exultant, undisturbed.
He saw across the field exploding shells,
The bursting bombs, the flying rocks, the ground
Splintered and torn, and the vast shattering
Of cannon men and horses. Unto him —
Facing as 'twere the very pits of Hell
Wide-opened — watching, waiting, 'twas the frame
Of Victory forming out of blasts and wrecks.
Behold him there on Seminary Ridge,
Hearing the tempest, seeing the thunderbolts!