FREDERICKSBURG

by: Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836-1906)

HE increasing moonlight drifts across my bed,

And on the churchyard by the road, I know

It falls as white and noiselessly as snow. . . .

'T was such a night two weary summers fled;

The stars, as now, were waning overhead.

Listen! Again the shrill-lipped bugles blow

Where the swift currents of the river flow

Past Fredericksburg; far off the heavens are red

With sudden conflagration; on yon height,

Linstock in hand, the gunners hold their breath;

A signal rocket pierces the dense night,

Flings its spent stars upon the town beneath:

Hark!--the artillery massing on the right,

Hark!--the black squadrons wheeling down to Death!

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