Classic Poem

O'er the biting bayonet's gleam I scream;
Imperial soar o'er the battle's roar,
And “stoop” at the gush of blood. O'er soldier's dream
I reign supreme. His brave deeds I hover o'er.
And by night o'er his couch I take my flight,
Invisible to mortal sight, unheard
By mortal ear. I banish fear. At my sight
He flies. For nought may face my unspoken word
“Revenge!” That is my watchword. For that alone
When night-winds moan, do I leave my mystic haunts.
All else leaves me motionless as a stone,
As a carvéd stone. And Sphinx-like still to taunts.
I at head of the column on spread wing dash,
When the bullets hiss, and the cannon crash.