They say the bluecoats, marching through the ripe wheat, Made a blue-and-yellow picture that men remember Even now in their age, in their crack-voiced age. They say the noise was incessant as the sound Of all wolves howling, when that attack came on. They say, when the guns all spoke, that the solid ground Of the rocky ridges trembled like a sick child. We have made the sick earth tremble with other shakings In our time, in our time, in our time, but it has not taught us To leave the grain in the field. So the storm came on Yelling against the angle. The men who fought there Were the tried fighters, the hammered, the weather-beaten, The very hard-dying men. They came and died And came again and died and stood there and died, Till at last the angle was crumpled and broken in, Sickles shot down, Willard, Barlow and Semmes shot down,