At Rheims 23

Within, the pillars soar to gloom Lit by the glimmering Rose ; Spirits of beauty shrined in stone Afar from mortal woes, Hearing not, though their haunted shade Is stricken, and all around With splintering flash and brutal crash The ghostly aisles resound. And there, upon the pavement stretched, The German wounded groan To see the dropping flames of death And feel the shells their own. Too fierce the fire ! Helped by their foes They stagger out to air. The green-gray coats are seen, are known Through all the crowded square. Ah, now for vengeance ! Deep the groan : A death-knell ! Quietly Soldiers unsling their rifles, lift And aim with steady eye.