Ye elms that wave on Malvern Hill <br />In prime of morn and May, <br />Recall ye how McClellan's men <br />Here stood at bay? <br />While deep within yon forest dim <br />Our rigid comrades lay - <br />Some with the cartridge in their mouth, <br />Others with fixed arms lifted South - <br />Invoking so <br />The cypress glades? Ah wilds of woe! <br /> <br />The spires of Richmond, late beheld <br />Through rifts in musket-haze, <br />Were closed from view in clouds of dust <br />On leaf-walled ways, <br />Where streamed our wagons in caravan; <br />And the Seven Nights and Days <br />Of march and fast, retreat and fight, <br />Pinched our grimed faces to ghastly plight - <br />Does the elm wood <br />Recall the haggard beards of blood? <br /> <br />The battle-smoked flag, with stars eclipsed, <br />We followed (it never fell!) - <br />In silence husbanded our strength - <br />Received their yell; <br />Till on this slope we patient turned <br />With cannon ordered well; <br />Reverse we proved was not defeat; <br />But ah, the sod what thousands meet! - <br />Does Malvern Wood <br />Bethink itself, and muse and brood? <br /> <br />We elms of Malvern Hill <br />Remember every thing; <br />But sap the twig will fill: <br />Wag the world how it will, <br />Leaves must be green in Spring.<br /><br />Herman Melville<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/malvern-hill/
