6. Why this is a show ! It has called the dead out of the earth !

The old grave-yards of the hills have hurried to see !

Uncountable phantoms gather by flank and rear of it!

Cocked hats of mothy mould ! crutches made of mist !

Arms in slings ! old men leaning on young men's shoulders !

7. What troubles you, Yankee phantoms ? What is all this chattering of bare gums ?

Does the ague convulse your limbs ? Do you mis- take your crutches for fire-locks, and level them ?

8. If you blind- your eyes with tears, you will not see the President's marshal,

If you groan such groans you might balk the government cannon.

9. For shame, old maniacs ! Bring down those tossed arms, and let your white hair be.

Here gape your smart grand-sons — their wives gaze at them from the windows,

See how well-dressed — see how orderly they conduct themselves.

10. Worse and worse ! Can't you stand it ? Are you retreating ?

Is this hour with the living too dead for you?