Classic Poem

Fall in, fall in, old soldiers!
The reveille is heard,
And bivouac and picket
Are at the summons stirred;
Fall in, that you may answer
The roll-call sounding clear,
And when the Sergeant calls your name
Prepare to answer " Here! "

Fall in, fall in, old soldiers,
And rub your sleepy eyes;
The mists of time are heavy
Around you as you rise;
The friendships on the musket sworn
Grow rusty as its lock;
Fall in once more, touch elbows,
As in the battle's shock.

Fall in, fall in, old soldiers,
By whatever name you bear, —
If you've made the march through Georgia,
If at Richmond you were there;
If on Lookout's lofty tablets
You've writ your names in blood,
If you've stemmed the hosts at Franklin,
Pouring onward like a flood.

Fall in, fall in, old soldiers, —
You who recall the day
At Corinth on the battlefield —
The dead around you lay,
When Rosecrans rode down the lines
To Fuller's old brigade:
" I take my hat off in the face
Of men like these , " he said.

Fall in, fall in, old soldiers, —
You who from Red House Bridge
Moved on to Chickamauga
When Thomas held the ridge;
Moved on with gallant Steedman
That day he broke away
Like a lion from his covert
When he heard the battle bray.

Fall in, fall in, old soldiers;
Perchance you followed well
At Kenesaw with Harker
And caught him when he fell;
Perchance you joined the wild mad cry
That through the army ran:
" McPherson and revenge! " then smote
The foemen rear and van.

Fall in, fall in, old soldiers;
A glory crowns you still,
For marches under Sherman,
For raids with " Little Phil. "
Though you swore by Grant or Thomas,
Or by Custer early dead,
There are roses for each bosom,
There are laurels for each head.

Fall in, fall in, old soldiers;
Each day the ranks grow small,
Each day a voice grows silent
Heard at the last roll-call;
A comrade's voice makes answer
Where was heard a manly shout:
" Disabled in the service,
And awaits his muster-out! "

Fall in, fall in, old soldiers;
A few more flying years,
And roses will be blooming
Above your lowly biers;
The roses and the ivy
And the lonely myrtle climb
Above the sleeping millions
Plumed and knighted in their time.

Fall in, fall in, old soldiers,
And fight your battles o'er,
Until above the last low bier
The wings of Freedom soar,
Stand hand to hand and heart to heart,
In Fame's eternal care,
Until the great Reunion
Unites you over there.