DEATH OF McPHERSON,
JULY 22, IB64.
By dk. E. A. Duncan, Staff Surgeon to Maj. Gen. McPneksox.
respectfully dedicated to the members of his old staff.
I.
" McPhekson and vengeance!" the Colonel* cried,
"Be our battle cry to-day!"
The veterans with purpose stern replied,
And hurried to the fray.
Fearfully great the slaughter they made,
Charging o'er the bloody mound;
Thousands in treason's ' grey' arrayed,
Lay strewn on the battle ground.
i i.
Numberless foemen sank on the field
Our battle-scarred ranks before;
Battalion on battalion reeled,
Drenching the soil with gore.
For our veteran heroes loved their Chief,
And burned his death to avenge,
"While in the conflict's pauses brief,
They cried " McPhf.kson and revenge!"
III.
One wounded soldierf crawled to the spot,
Where his dying chieftain lay,
And piously watched 'mid whistling shot
His life-blood ebb away.
And those who sought the one loved form,
Amid the dead and dying,
He guided safe through the iron storm,
To the place where it was lying.
IV.
And though our hearts with fierce pride glowed,
O'er the battle we had won,
In silent grief our hearts we bowed,
That he so loved was gone.
Far to the front in victorious fight,
He fell, in his prime's fresh glow,
Belted and spurred like a gallant knight,
With his face toward the foe.
V.
He fell in the zenith of glory,
One of the stars of his age,
And in letters of gold shall his story
Find a record on history's page.
We'll ne'er forget his words that morning,
Or the light that flashed in his eye,
Or the smile that his lip was adorning,
As he rode to the battle—to die! 1
VI;
Proudly he reined his petted " old Black,"
Like a warrior chieftain of old:
Alas! in an hour they brought him back
To us, silent, gory, and cold.
How our hearts bled with anguish, when
We gazed on the face of our dead,
We breathed no prayer or submissive amen,
But vows of vengeance instead.
VII.
In lasting iron we shrouded his breast,
We embalmed his sacred clay,
And to his childhood's home to rest,
We bore him sadly away—
Where his mother can weep o'er his dust,
And another equally dear,
Who now mourns over her young hopes crush'd
Can moisten his grave with a tear.
VIII.
We need no bronze cr monument stone,
To perpetuate his fame—
Graved on our hearts by affection aloue
Is our McPherson's name.
And Columbia's daughters arc weeping,
While the heart of the patriot bleeds,
For him who lies peacefully sleeping
'Neath his record of glorious deeds.
*Licut. Col. Wm. T. Clark, Asst. Adjt. Genl. Department and Army of the Tenn.
■(■Private George Reynolds, 15th Iowa Infantry Volunteers.
Before A tlanta, Ga., July 29, 1865.