Friday, February 1, 2019

Picket's Charge

Fifteen thousand men lined up
on July's hottest day,
when bugles blared and swords went up
they stepped out on their way.

A mile of grassy field ahead
before the Yankee line,
in the minutes it took to walk that far
they ran out of time.

General Lee had sent them off
to break the federal's center,
but the middle of that Union line
they were not allowed to enter.

Cannon fire came from the flanks
and many rifles up ahead,
closing the range with every step
many brave men fell dead.

A low stone wall by a copse of trees
their objective atop a hill,
where from soldiers in blue lead balls flew
at the many rebels they would kill.

Both armies saw the macabre scene
of gruesome death so stark,
up where so few gained the heights
making the south’s high water mark.

There was no glory in their valor
just fear and futile death,
believing they could carry the day
in grim resolve till their last breath.


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved

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