The Lonely Bugle Grieves

THE LONELY BUGLE GRIEVES
BY GRENVILLE MELLEN

The trump hath blown,
And now upon that reeking hill
Slaughter rides screaming on the vengeful ball;
While with terrific signal shrill.
The vultures, from their bloody eyries flown.
Hang o'er them like a pall.
Now deeper roll the maddening drums,
And the mingling host like ocean heaves:
While from the midst a horrid wailing comes.
And high above the fight the lonely bugle grieves!