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Michigan in the Civil War
SEVENTEENTH REGIMENT INFANTRY
'Tis given. As quick as the word they face And advance by the flank—every man in his place.
The old starry flag waves proudly and high, So fondly caressed by the soft autumn sky; While the Eagle, extending his wings on the air, Seemed to whisper of Victory hovering there. The low, rumbling sounds that rise on the ear Inspire to valor, yet waken to fear.
As louder and nearer with ponderous roll The death knells of Orcus toll—toll—toll, We reach the hill-top, and fearfully riven South Mountain before us aspires to heaven. While round his huge head incessant is curled.
Civil War
Page 22
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