Shoe the steed with silver
That bore him to the fray,
When he heard the guns at dawning —
Miles away;
When he heard them calling, calling —
Mount! nor stay:
Quick, or all is lost;
They've surprised and stormed the post,
They push your routed host —
Gallop! retrieve the day.
House the horse in ermine —
For the foam-flake blew
White through the red October;
He thundered into view;
They cheered him in the looming.
Horseman and horse they knew.
The turn of the tide began,
The rally of bugles ran,
He swung his hat in the van;
The electric hoof-spark flew.
Wreathe the steed and lead him —
For the charge he led
Touched and turned the cypress
Into amaranths for the head
Of Philip, king of riders,
Who raised them from the dead.
The camp ( at dawning lost ),
By eve, recovered — forced,
Rang with laughter of the host
At belated Early fled.
Shroud the horse in sable —
For the mounds they heap!
There is firing in the Valley,
And yet no strife they keep;
It is the parting volley,
It is the pathos deep.
There is glory for the brave
Who lead, and nobly save,
But no knowledge in the grave
Where the nameless followers sleep.