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Herman Melville - Malvern Hill
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Ye elms that wave on Malvern Hill
In prime of morn and May,
Recall ye how McClellan`s men
Here stood at bay?
While deep within yon forest dim
Our rigid comrades lay - 
Some with the cartridge in their mouth,
Others with fixed arms lifted South - 
Invoking so
The cypress glades? Ah wilds of woe!

The spires of Richmond, late beheld
Through rifts in musket-haze,
Were closed from view in clouds of dust
On leaf-walled ways,
Where streamed our wagons in caravan;
And the Seven Nights and Days
Of march and fast, retreat and fight,
Pinched our grimed faces to ghastly plight - 
Does the elm wood
Recall the haggard beards of blood?

The battle-smoked flag, with stars eclipsed,
We followed (it never fell!) - 
In silence husbanded our strength - 
Received their yell;
Till on this slope we patient turned
With cannon ordered well;
Reverse we proved was not defeat;
But ah, the sod what thousands meet! - 
Does Malvern Wood
Bethink itself, and muse and brood?

We elms of Malvern Hill
Remember every thing;
But sap the twig will fill:
Wag the world how it will,
Leaves must be green in Spring.
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