Your picture, slung about my neck
The day we went afield,
Swung out before the trench;
It caught the eye of rank and file,
Who knew “The Colonel's Shield.”
I thrust it back, and with my men
( Our General rode ahead )
We stormed the great redoubt,
As if it were an easy thing,
But rows of us fell dead!
Your picture hanging on my neck,
Up with my men I rushed;
We made an awful charge:
And then my horse, “The Lady Bess,”
Dropped, and — my leg was crushed!
The blood of battle in my veins
( A blue-coat dragged me out ),—
But I remembered you;
I kissed your picture — did you know?
And yelled, “For the redoubt!”
The Twenty-fourth, my scarred old dogs,
Growled back, “He'll put us through;
We'll take him in our arms:
Our picture there — the girl he loves,
Shall see what we can do.”
The foe was silenced — so were we.
I lay upon the field,
Among the Twenty-fourth;
Your picture, shattered on my breast,
Had proved “The Colonel's Shield.”