Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1866-11-14
poetrp.
John Burns OF Gettysburg.

John Burns OF Gettysburg.
or John Burns Of Gestyssurg!-Ns Alb, WELL
Brief 10 TIE glory that hero earns.
BrIefer the story Of poor John Buras;
He was tie man who won renovn-
The only man who didn't back down
when the bells rode throu IN his native town.
But held his own n the fsht next day,
When all his tovnsfok away
That was in July, Sky three,
The very day tina. General Lss,
Flower OF Southern csivalry,
Baffi-d and beaten, backward ree.sd
From . stubborn Meade and . barren Aeld.
might tell how, bat the day before,
Sohn Burns sto st his cottage door
Looking down the village street.
Where in the shade Of his peaceful wins
He heard the low Of his gather ed kline,
And felt their breath with ineense sweet;
Or, mi sht say, when the sunset burned
The old fsrm-y.bIe, he thought il turned
The milk that fell in . bsbslin food
Into the milk pail. red az blood;
Or how he fAnci=d tbs hum of bses
Were bullets bu sizing among the trees,
But all such fsucif1I thoughts as these
Were strange TO q practical nan like Burns,
Who minded only his own concerns-
Troubled no more by fancies hne
Than one q his cam-syed, long tailed kline
Quite old-fashioned and matter Of fac,
SLOW argue, but quick act.
That the son, : som. folk say.
lie fought veil on that terrible day
And il terrible. On tn. right
Ragged for hours the heavy aght,
Tbrnder-d The bsttery's double bass
DifnsuI- music for men 10 face;
While the Isft-where nov The graves
UnauIate like the living waves
That all day uneeasing swept
Up TO the pits the rebels kept
Round shot pIoug hed the upland glades,
so~a with bullets resped with blades;
Shattered fences here aud there
Tossed their spIiniers IN the air;
The very trees WERE stripped and bare;
The barns that once held yellow grain
Were heaped With h.rvests Of tn. slain,
The cattle beloved on the ain,
The turkeys screamed with nigh. and main,
And broo ling barn fowls left their res.
With strange shells bursting in each nest
Just where the tide Of battle turns,
Erect and lonely stc od old John Burn.
How do you think The man dressed
He wore a accent long buf vest,
Yellow ssfror-ba. his bsst,
And buttorrd ever his manly Breast
Was a bright blue with a rolling collar,
And large gilt buttous-siz- Of dollar
with tails that country TX cal ea swalisr.''
He wore q broad rciam 3, be.I-cf sn-d hat.
White The :. c2s which 1t sat
Never had such sight b=ea
For forty years the village green,
since John Burns was country beau,
And went TO the " quilting " io7g ago
Close a. his elbows, all that day
Veterans of The Peninsula,
sunburnt and bearded, charged away.
And striplings, downy o. lip and chin
Clerks that the Home Guard mustered in
Glanced as they passed at the hat he wore,
Then at the rife his tight hand lore;
And hailed him from out their youthful lore,
With scraps-of a sIangy rfpsr.one;
"a How are you, Whit HATH = Put her through q
Z" Your heads level" am " Belly for you"
Called him & Daddy AMI begged he'd disclose
TIE name of the tailor v no made his clothes,
And what the value ne hose,
While Burns, unminituI OF jetr and scof,
> ood there picking ths rebels o1-
With hrs long brown rife, and beILcrown hat,
And the svalA " tails they were laughing
Twas but a moment, for thai respect
Which clothss all courage their voices checked
And some thing the widest could understand
Spake in the old mans strong light hand,
And his corded thra st, and the rkiT froun
of his eyebrows under his Old bell-crown
Until, as they gar ID, there crept ava
Through the ranks IN whispers, and ONE msR saw,
In the antique vest mt ami lsng VII tie hair.
The Past of the Nation in bale there.
And some of he soldiers ince declare
Tia the CLEAN of lis old white hat afar,
Like the crested plume OF the brave Navarro,
That day w4stheir or Il amu1e Of war
Thus IA g.d the battle You know he -es.;
How the rebels, beaten and backward pressed,
Broke at the nnat charge AM ran.
At VIII CHI John Burns practical man
ShouIdered his rife, unbent his brovs,
And then went hack to his bees and cows.
This is the story Of old John Burns;
This is the moral the reader learns;
In fighting the battle, the question: vh-ther
You'll show hit that's white feather