Naught but resistance fiercer than attack
Could e'er have stayed that whirlwind from the woods
Sweeping across the swath of Chancellorsville.
It came at last — the wild Blue cannonry
Hurling infuriate grape and canister
On Stonewall's ranks, laying them low in death;
And following — clashing muskets, bayonets,
Hand-to-hand struggle, reckless combating,
Ferocity supreme, and savagery
Let loose from all life's far ancestral caves.
It came at last; the mad assault was checked
Beneath the moonlight; but they halted there —
Those Southern fighters, as men seldom halt.
And in the moonlight Stonewall Jackson rode
A space beyond them reconnoitering.
And while he reconnoitered, suddenly
He and his little band unwitting strayed
Where light turned mist about familiar forms.
A swift and sheeted blaze of muskets burst
From Southern watchers on the skirmish line
Against conjectured foes, — and Jackson fell
Wounded and helpless and ere long to die.
Who cries, Wherefore? feels somehow life's mute power
Obedient to the White Battalions.
Perchance the loosened winds of destiny,
Here as elsewhere oft present, puissant,
Wrought to fulfill the Will of the Most High.
Who saw not then beholds now with clear eyes
The battle surging round the feet of God.
At length there came to him what comes to all.
Softly he breathed, — " To die, it is God's best. "
Sweetly he spoke, — " To pass over the river
And rest beneath the shadow of the trees. "
Most blest is he of Stonewall Jackson's faith,
Full faith in God and His redeeming grace.
His is the victory whether he live or die.
'Twas his last battle, and the world has cried,
Phrasing his soul and life immortally, —
" Hero of Chancellorsville. " With early dawn
" Charge, and remember Jackson! " filled the air.
His spirit led them still. Forward they sprang,
With furious onslaught. Though hard-driven back,
Their mad ranks broken, on again they pressed,
While smoke and flame turned to avengement tongues
That cried, " Remember Jackson! " Thus they charged.
Could e'er have stayed that whirlwind from the woods
Sweeping across the swath of Chancellorsville.
It came at last — the wild Blue cannonry
Hurling infuriate grape and canister
On Stonewall's ranks, laying them low in death;
And following — clashing muskets, bayonets,
Hand-to-hand struggle, reckless combating,
Ferocity supreme, and savagery
Let loose from all life's far ancestral caves.
It came at last; the mad assault was checked
Beneath the moonlight; but they halted there —
Those Southern fighters, as men seldom halt.
And in the moonlight Stonewall Jackson rode
A space beyond them reconnoitering.
And while he reconnoitered, suddenly
He and his little band unwitting strayed
Where light turned mist about familiar forms.
A swift and sheeted blaze of muskets burst
From Southern watchers on the skirmish line
Against conjectured foes, — and Jackson fell
Wounded and helpless and ere long to die.
Who cries, Wherefore? feels somehow life's mute power
Obedient to the White Battalions.
Perchance the loosened winds of destiny,
Here as elsewhere oft present, puissant,
Wrought to fulfill the Will of the Most High.
Who saw not then beholds now with clear eyes
The battle surging round the feet of God.
At length there came to him what comes to all.
Softly he breathed, — " To die, it is God's best. "
Sweetly he spoke, — " To pass over the river
And rest beneath the shadow of the trees. "
Most blest is he of Stonewall Jackson's faith,
Full faith in God and His redeeming grace.
His is the victory whether he live or die.
'Twas his last battle, and the world has cried,
Phrasing his soul and life immortally, —
" Hero of Chancellorsville. " With early dawn
" Charge, and remember Jackson! " filled the air.
His spirit led them still. Forward they sprang,
With furious onslaught. Though hard-driven back,
Their mad ranks broken, on again they pressed,
While smoke and flame turned to avengement tongues
That cried, " Remember Jackson! " Thus they charged.