"Fredericksburg," Thomas Bailey Aldrich

The increasing moonlight drifts across my bed,
And on the churchyard by the road, I know
It falls as white and noiselessly as snow...
'T was such a night two weary summers fled;
The stars, as now, were waning overhead.
Listen! Again the shirll-lipped bugles blow
Where the swift currents of the river flow
Past Fredericksburg; far off the heavens are red
WIth sudden conflagration; on yon height,
Linsotck in hand, the gunners hold their breath;
A signal rocket pierces the dense night,
Flings its spent stars upon the town beneath:
Hark!--the artillery massing on the right,
Hark!--the black squadrons wheeling down to Death!

From Poets of the Civil War, another of this season's contributions to the American Poets Project; the anthology gathers together verse from thirty-three poets on both sides of the conflict. Today is the 140th anniversary of the signing of the truce at Appomattox.