Classic Poem

They answer up so smartly to the callin' o' the roll
The night before the battle—
Ere the cannons roar and rattle,—
To the callin'—to the callin' o' the roll.
“All here!”
Faces dear,
To women weeping near—
Whose cheeks have lost the rose-tints, whose lips are white with fear,—
“All here—
All here!”

They answer up so faintly to the callin' o' the roll
After the clashing battle—
When the guns have ceased to rattle,—
To the callin'—to the callin' o' the roll.
“Missing there!”
Faces dear
To the women weeping near—
Heart broken, and with pallid lips too tremulous for prayer,—
“Missing there—
Missing there!”