Grierson's Raid

Mount to horse mount to horse;
Forward, Battalion!
Gallop the gallant force;
Down with Rebellion!
Over hill, creek and plain
Clatter the fearless
Dash away splash away
Led by the Peerless.

Carbines crack foemen fly
Hither and thither;
Under the death-fire
They falter and wither.
Burn the bridge tear the track
Down with Rebellion!
Cut the wires cut the wires!
Forward, Battalion!
Day and night night and day,
Gallop the fearless
Swimming the rivers' floods
Led by the Peerless;
Depots and powder-trains
Blazing and thundering
Masters and dusky slaves
Gazing and wondering.
Eight hundred miles they ride
Dauntless Battalion
Down through the Southern Land
Mad with Rebellion.
Into our lines they dash
Brave Cavaliers
Greeting our flag with
A thunder of cheers.

Hanford Lennox Gordon

No biography available

Hanford Lennox Gordon

To Sylva

Hanford Lennox Gordon, Simple Poetry

Pat And The Pig

Hanford Lennox Gordon, Simple Poetry

Byron And The Angel

Hanford Lennox Gordon, Simple Poetry

Address To The Flag

Hanford Lennox Gordon, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Charge Of Fremont's Body-Guard

On they ride on they ride
Only three hundred,
Ride the brave Body-Guard,
From the "Prairie Scouts" sundered:
Two thousand riflemen,
Ambushed on either side,
The signal of slaughter bide:
Ho! has the farmer-guide
Led them astray and lied?
How can they pass the wood?
On they ride on they ride
Fearlessly, readily,
Silently, steadily
Ride the brave Body-Guard
Led by Zagonyi.

Up leap the Southrons there;
Loud breaks the battle-blare;
Now swings his hat in air;
Flashes his saber bare:
"Draw sabers; follow me!"
Shouts the brave Captain:
"Union and Liberty!"
Thunders the Captain.
Three hundred sabers flash;
Three hundred Guardsmen dash
On to the fierce attack;
Into the cul-de-sac
Plunge ...

Hanford Lennox Gordon

Charge Of "The Black-Horse"

Our columns are broken, defeated, and fled;
We are gathered, a few from the flying and dead,
Where the green flag is up and our wounded remain
Imploring for water and groaning in pain.
Lo the blood-spattered bosom, the shot-shattered limb,
The hand-clutch of fear as the vision grows dim,
The half-uttered prayer and the blood-fettered breath,
The cold marble brow and the calm face of death.
O proud were these forms at the dawning of morn,
When they sprang to the call of the shrill bugle-horn:
There are mothers and wives that await them afar;
God help them! Is this then the glory of war?
But hark! hear the cries from the field of despair;
"The Black-Horse" are charging the fugitives there;
They gallop the field o'er the dying and dead,
And their blades with the blood...

Hanford Lennox Gordon

The Old Flag

Have ye heard of Fort Donelson's desperate fight,
Where the giant Northwest bared his arm for the right,
Where thousands so bravely went down in the slaughter,
And the blood of the West ran as freely as water;
Where the Rebel Flag fell and our banner arose
O'er an army of captured and suppliant foes?
Lo torn by the shot and begrimed by the powder,
The Old Flag is waving there prouder and prouder.

Heard ye of Shiloh, where fierce Beauregard
O'erwhelmed us with numbers and pressed us so hard,
Till our veteran supporters came up to our aid
And the tide of defeat and disaster was staid
Where like grain-sheaves the slaughtered were piled on the plain
And the brave rebel Johnston went down with the slain?
Lo torn by the shot and begrimed by the powder,
The Old Flag...

Hanford Lennox Gordon

Gettysburg: Charge Of The First Minnesota

Ready and ripe for the harvest lay the acres of golden grain
Waving on hillock and hillside and bending along the plain.
Ready and ripe for the harvest two veteran armies lay
Waiting the signal of battle on the Gettysburg hills that day.
Sharp rang the blast of the bugles calling the foe to the fray,
And shrill from the enemy's cannon the demon shells shrieked as they flew;
Crashed and rumbled and roared our batteries ranged on the hill,
Rumbled and roared at the front the bellowing guns of the foe
Swelling the chorus of hell ever louder and deadlier still,
And shrill o'er the roar of the cannon rose the yell of the rebels below,
As they charged on our Third Corps advanced and crushed in the lines at a blow.
Leading his clamorous legions, flashing his saber in air,
Forward rode f...

Hanford Lennox Gordon

Cavalry Charge - Königgrätz

We stood, as the helmeted horsemen
Formed up in the light of the sun;
We knelt, stretching bayonets towards them
As they charged, ere the battle was won.

I marked their young leader apparelled
As daintily as for parade,
A cigarette smoking, advancing
He laughed, as he pointed his blade.

He played with his yellow moustaches,
And looked on our ranks, with a scorn
Such as mantles 'gainst mist and night-vapour
On the brow of the Son of the morn.

He led a bright host where the glitter
Of armour illumined the vale;
As a flood rises slowly, so, coming,
They rode with the sun on their mail.

Thus he steadied his men, and none wavered.
As the steeds settled down to their stride,
And we heard the first rush of the squadrons,
Like th...

John Campbell

The Reveille

Trumpets of the Lancer Corps
Sound a loud reveille;
Sound it over Sydney shore,
Send the message far and wide
Down the Richmond River side.
Boot and Saddle, mount and ride,
Sound a loud reveille.

Whither go ye, Lancers gay,
With your bold reveille?
O'er the ocean far away
From your sunny southern home,
Over leagues of trackless foam
In a foreign land to roam,
With your bold reveille.

When we hear our brethren call,
Sound a clear reveille.
Then we answer, one and all,
Answer that the world may see,
Of the English stock are we,
At their side we still will be,
Sound a bold reveille.

English troops are buried deep.
Sound a soft reveille.
In this foreign land asleep,
Underneath Majuba Hill,
Lying sleepi...

Andrew Barton Paterson