Thrust muzzles black in sight.
Along the plain our muskets bright
In line of battle lie;
With eager eyes we watch the fight
Up in the southern sky.
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Then charged the bristling battle-lines,
The gray coats and the blue;
And these the God of War assigns
The Laurel, those the Rue.
Quick, boys! Who scales to yonder height
The ladder in the cleft?
Stern "boys" went up and won the fight,
The great black guns were left.
But ah! thou crested mountain-head,
An altar was thy sod;
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Undergraduate Literary Exercises in Sanders Theatre.
