The Cavalry Charge, by Francis A. Durivage

One hand on the sabre,
And one on the rein,
The troopers move forward
In line on the plain.
As rings the word &#34 Gallop! &#34
The steel scabbards clank,
And each rowel is pressed
To a horses hot flank;

With bray of the trumpet
And roll of the drum,
And keen ring of bugle,
The Cavalry come.
Sharp clank the steel scabbards,
The bridle-chains ring,
And foam from red nostrils
The wild chargers fling.

And swift is their rush
As the wild torrents flow,
When it pours from the crag
On the valley below.

Rein up your hot horses
And call in your men.
The trumpet sounds &#34 Rally To Colors! &#34 again.
Some saddles are empty,
Some comrades are slain,
And some noble horses
Lie stark in the plain;
But war’ s a chance game, boys,
And weeping is vain.