[The Centenarian]
When I clutch’d your hand it was not with terror,
But suddenly pouring about me here on every side, And below there where the boys were drilling, and up the slopes they ran, And where tents are pitch’d, and wherever you see south and south-
    east and south-west,
Over hills, across lowlands, and in the skirts of woods,
And along the shores, in mire (now fill’d over) came again and
    suddenly raged,
As eighty-five years agone no mere parade receiv’d with applause of friends, But a battle which I took part in myself—­aye, long ago as it is, I
    took part in it,
Walking then this hilltop, this same ground.

Aye, this is the ground,
My blind eyes even as I speak behold it re-peopled from graves,
The years recede, pavements and stately houses disappear,
Rude forts appear again, the old hoop’d guns are mounted,
I see the lines of rais’d earth stretching from river to bay,
I mark the vista of waters, I mark the uplands and slopes;
Here we lay encamp’d, it was this time in summer also.

As I talk I remember all, I remember the Declaration,
It was read here, the whole army paraded, it was read to us here,
By his staff surrounded the General stood in the middle, he held up
    his unsheath’d sword,
It glitter’d in the sun in full sight of the army.

Twas a bold act then—­the English war-ships had just arrived,
We could watch down the lower bay where they lay at anchor,
And the transports swarming with soldiers.

A few days more and they landed, and then the battle.

Twenty thousand were brought against us,
A veteran force furnish’d with good artillery.

I tell not now the whole of the battle,
But one brigade early in the forenoon order’d forward to engage the
    red-coats,
Of that brigade I tell, and how steadily it march’d,
And how long and well it stood confronting death.

Who do you think that was marching steadily sternly confronting death? 
It was the brigade of the youngest men, two thousand strong,
Rais’d in Virginia and Maryland, and most of them known personally
    to the General.

Jauntily forward they went with quick step toward Gowanus’ waters,
Till of a sudden unlook’d for by defiles through the woods, gain’d at night,
The British advancing, rounding in from the east, fiercely playing
    their guns,
That brigade of the youngest was cut off and at the enemy’s mercy.

The General watch’d them from this hill,
They made repeated desperate attempts to burst their environment,
Then drew close together, very compact, their flag flying in the middle,
But O from the hills how the cannon were thinning and thinning them!

It sickens me yet, that slaughter! 
I saw the moisture gather in drops on the face of the General. 
I saw how he wrung his hands in anguish.