The poem
I, from a window where the Meuse is wide, Looked eastward out to the September night; The men that in the hopeless battle died Rose, and deployed, and stationed for the fight; A brumal army, vague and ordered large For mile on mile by some pale general,- I saw them lean by companies to the charge, But no man living heard the bugle-call.
And fading still, and pointing to their scars, They fled in lessening clouds, where gray and high Dawn lay along the heaven in misty bars; But watching from that eastern casement, I Saw the Republic splendid in the sky, And round her terrible head the morning stars.