Classic Poem

" FORWARD , double-quick, march! "
Through the smoke and the flame,
Through the cyclone of shot and of shell;
Seven times down the abyss,
Seven times up to the guns,
Shattered and scattered and scarred;
The scourge at their head,
And the scourge at their feet,
Charged the Black Regiment.

There on the heights were the guns, —
The bloodhounds of battle, —
The dark growling packs crouching low,
To start at a word from the master,
And roar and rend in the trail
Of reeling disaster
Under the guns is the bayou,
A marge of luxuriant grasses, —
And here are the tawny long lines,
Where the Orderly passes;
And their eyes are aflame,
As they charge and take aim,
Down where the bayou runs red
With the blood of the dead;
Where the snarer has set
The lines of his net;
And they sink and they fall
Beyond hope, beyond call, —
The gallant Black Regiment.

What did they down in the beach,
Under the guns at Port Hudson?
Slaves that they were and despised,
Scorned of the land and reviled, —
Mocked at, and spit at, and spurned, —
Sold like an ox in the shambles, —
Torn from the breasts that would nurstle,
Hated and hunted and hurtled —
Who nerved their muscle,
Who strung their tendons?
Mother of freemen, give answer!

" Lo, while ye dozed in your tents
With the languorous air
Blown soft from the gardens of musk
Caressing you there, —
Your coraline lips,
And your long silken hair,
And the pink waxen tips
Of your fingers so fair, —
They toiled and grew strong
In the gin and the cane,
And their ebony thighs,
And their shoulders strong-knit,
For the Isthmian prize
They were moulded and fit.
When they held up bruised hands
Mine hastened to heal;
When they laid their lips close
To my heart in the night,
I heard through their tears,
And I taught them to feel
That who conquereth foes
He must fight, —
He must fight! "

" Forward, double-quick, march! "
The scoff and the jeer
Are swift to pursue,
But the scoff and the jeer
No hero may rue.
So steady and still
They stride down the hill,
Till the bloodhounds awake
On the brow of the brake, —
There to show their wide maws,
There to rend with fierce jaws,
While their clamor and blare
Cleave the pestilent air, —
And they rock and they reel
In the raging red wrath,
Though their hearts are as steel
There is death in the path,
And the knights of the seal,
They are keeping their math.

" Forward, double-quick, march! "
Though Nelson would stay
The long swinging lines
That are melting away,
In the dull, deadly glare
Of the war-wasting air,
Where the sun smites the head,
And the earth snares the feet,
And the lines that have led
Are the lines of defeat;
For the road to success
Is the road to despair,
And the toil and the stress
Reap but bitterness there.

" Still forward, and charge for the guns! "
Said Cailloux,
And his shattered sword-arm
Was the guidon they knew.
But a fire rakes the flanks
And a fire rakes the van;
He is down with the ranks
That go down as one man.

Shake the old colors out!
Planciancois ahead, —
Where he leads they follow,
Though the grave be their bed!
But the colors go down,
And the color-guard's slain, —
They bend 'neath the colors
And forward again!
Through the shot and the shell,
Though the gloom and the glare,
For the conquest lies here,
And the glory lies there.
Alas for Planciancois!
Alas for Cailloux!
For the heroes who fall
In the ranks of the Blue!
For the gallant Black Regiment
Under the guns
In the charge at Port Hudson!

What did they wrest from the breach
Under the guns at Port Hudson?
From the rage of retreat,
In the pangs of defeat?
From the fury of hate,
And the frenzy of fate?
From the jibe and the jeer,
And the scorn and the sneer.
From revenge that leaps out
In the ruin and rout,
And gloats on the wounded,
And gloats on the dead,
As the jackal that stirs
The swift pulses of dread?

What did they wrest from the breach,
Under the guns at Port Hudson?
The right to be men; to stand forth
Clean-limbed in the fierce light of freedom,
And say, " We are men! We are men
By these scars, by these wounds! " And what then?
" Why, patriots, wed to our deeds,
In the face of the law and the creeds!
By our flag ruby red
With the blood of the dead,
To stand by our land in her needs!
The first of the fearless,
The peer of the peerless,
When glory to glory up-leads! "

Out of the awful abyss,
Up from the guns at Port Hudson,
Out of the smoke and the flame,
Shattered and scattered they came, —
Casting the gyves of the slave,
Winning the gules of the free;
One on the rolls of the brave,
One in the glory to be, —
The gallant Black Regiment!