Armistead leapt the wall and laid his hand on the gun, The last of the three brigadiers who ordered Pickett’s brigades, He waved his hat on his sword and “Give ’em the steel!” he cried, A few men followed him over. The rest were beaten or dead.

A few men followed him over. There had been fifteen thousand When that sea began its march toward the fish-hook ridge and the wall. So they came on in strength, light-footed, stepping like deer, So they died or were taken. So the iron entered their flesh.

Lee, a mile away, in the shade of a little wood, Stared, with his mouth shut down, and saw them go and be slain, And then saw for a single moment, the blue Virginia flag Planted beyond the wall, by that other flag that he knew.