He had been through Chancellorsville and the whistling wood, He had been through this last day. It is well to sleep After such days. He had seen, in the last four months, Many roads, much weather and death, and two men fey Before they died with the prescience of death to come, John Haberdeen and the corporal from Millerstown. Such things are often remembered even in sleep. He thought to himself, before he lay on the ground, “We got it hot today in that red-brick town But we’ll get it hotter tomorrow.” And when he woke And saw the round sun risen in the clear sky, He could feel that thought steam up from the rocky ground And touch each man. One man looked down from the hill, “That must be their whole damn army,” he said and whistled, “It’ll be a picnic today, boys. Yes, it’ll be A regular basket-picnic.” He whistled again.