Sheridan at Cedar Creek.

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 noblys ave,

But no knowledge in the grave

Where the nameless followers sleep.