Battle of Springfield, Missouri.
                       (August, 1861.)

Some hearts there are of deeper sort,

            Prophetic, sad,

Which yet for cause are trebly clad;

            Known death they fly on:

This wizard-heart and heart-of-oak had Lyon.

“They are more than twenty thousand strong,

            We less than five,

Too few with such a host to strive”

            “Such counsel, fie on!

’Tis battle, or 'tis shame;” and firm stood Lyon.

“For help at need in van we wait—

            Retreat or fight:

Retreat the foe would take for flight,

            And each proud scion

Feel more elate; the end must come,” said Lyon.

By candlelight he wrote the will,

            And left his all

To Her for whom ’twas not enough to fall;

            Loud neighed Orion

Without the tent; drums beat; we marched with Lyon.

The night-tramp done, we spied the Vale

            With guard-fires lit;

Day broke, but trooping clouds made gloom of it:

            “A field to die on”

Presaged in his unfaltering heart, brave Lyon.

We fought on the grass, we bled in the corn—

            Fate seemed malign;

His horse the Leader led along the line—

            Star-browed Orion;

Bitterly fearless, he rallied us there, brave Lyon.

There came a sound like the slitting of air

            By a swift sharp sword—

A rush of the sound; and the sleek chest broad

            Of black Orion

Heaved, and was fixed; the dead mane waved toward Lyon.

“General, you're hurt—this sleet of balls!”

            He seemed half spent;

With moody and bloody brow, he lowly bent:

            “The field to die on;

But not—not yet; the day is long,” breathed Lyon.

For a time becharmed there fell a lull

            In the heart of the fight;

The tree-tops nod, the slain sleep light;

            Warm noon-winds sigh on,

And thoughts which he never spake had Lyon.

Texans and Indians trim for a charge:

            “Stand ready, men!

Let them come close, right up, and then

            After the lead, the iron;

Fire, and charge back!” So strength returned to Lyon.

The Iowa men who held the van,

            Half drilled, were new

To battle: "Some one lead us, then we'll do"

            Said Corporal Tryon:

“Men! I will lead,” and a light glared in Lyon.

On they came: they yelped, and fired;

            His spirit sped;

We leveled right in, and the half-breeds fled,

            Nor stayed the iron,

Nor captured the crimson corse of Lyon.

This seer foresaw his soldier-doom,

            Yet willed the fight.

He never turned; his only flight

            Was up to Zion,

Where prophets now and armies greet brave Lyon.