The increasing moonlight drifts across my bed, <br />And on the churchyard by the road, I know <br />It falls as white and noiselessly as snow . . . . <br />'Twas such a night two weary summers fled; <br />The stars, as now, were waning overhead. <br />Listen! Again the shrill-lipped bugles blow <br />Where the swift currents of the river flow <br />Past Fredericksburg; far off the heavens are red <br />With sudden conflagration; on yon height, <br />Linstock in hand, the gunners hold their breath; <br />A signal rocket pierces the dense night, <br />Flings its spent stars upon the town beneath; <br />Hark! -- the artillery massing on the right, <br />Hark! -- the black squadrons wheeling down to Death!<br /><br />Thomas Bailey Aldrich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fredericksburg/
