So peaceable it was, so calm and hot, So tidy and great-skied. No men had fought There but enormous, monumental men Who bled neat streams of uncorrupting bronze, Even at the Round Tops, even by Pickett’s boulder, Where the bronze, open book could still be read By visitors and sparrows and the wind: And the wind came, the wind moved in the grass, Saying⁠ ⁠… while the long light⁠ ⁠… and all so calm⁠ ⁠…

“Pickett came And the South came And the end came, And the grass comes And the wind blows On the bronze book On the bronze men On the grown grass, And the wind says ‘Long ago Long Ago.’ ”