Charge Of The Black-horse Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BBCCDDEEFFGHIIBBCCAJ KKKLIMNOOEECC PPHHIIQQ| First battle of Bull Run | A |
| - | |
| - | |
| Our columns are broken defeated and fled | B |
| We are gathered a few from the flying and dead | B |
| Where the green flag is up and our wounded remain | C |
| Imploring for water and groaning in pain | C |
| Lo the blood spattered bosom the shot shattered limb | D |
| The hand clutch of fear as the vision grows dim | D |
| The half uttered prayer and the blood fettered breath | E |
| The cold marble brow and the calm face of death | E |
| O proud were these forms at the dawning of morn | F |
| When they sprang to the call of the shrill bugle horn | F |
| There are mothers and wives that await them afar | G |
| God help them Is this then the glory of war | H |
| But hark hear the cries from the field of despair | I |
| The Black Horse are charging the fugitives there | I |
| They gallop the field o'er the dying and dead | B |
| And their blades with the blood of their victims are red | B |
| The cries of the fallen and flying are vain | C |
| They saber the wounded and trample the slain | C |
| And the plumes of the riders wave red in the sun | A |
| As they stoop for the stroke and the murder goes on | J |
| They halt for a moment they form and they stand | K |
| Then with sabers aloft they ride down on our band | K |
| Like the samiel that sweeps o'er Arabia's sand | K |
| Halt down with your sabers the dying are here | L |
| Let the foeman respect while the friend sheds a tear | I |
| Nay the merciless butchers were thirsting for blood | M |
| And mad for the murder still onward they rode | N |
| Stand firm and be ready Our brave gallant few | O |
| Have faced to the foe and our rifles are true | O |
| Fire a score of grim riders go down in a breath | E |
| At the flash of our guns in the tempest of death | E |
| They wheel and they clutch in despair at the mane | C |
| They reel in their saddles and fall to the plain | C |
| - | |
| The riderless steeds wild with wounds and with fear | P |
| Dash away o'er the field in unbridled career | P |
| Their stirrups swing loose and their manes are all gore | H |
| From the mad cavaliers that shall ride them no more | H |
| Of the hundred so bold that rode down on us there | I |
| But few rode away with the tale of despair | I |
| Their proud plumed comrades so reckless alas | Q |
| Slept their long dreamless sleep on the blood spattered grass | Q |
Hanford Lennox Gordon
(1)
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