SANTA ANA came storming, as a storm might come; | |
| There was rumble of cannon; there was rattle of blade; | |
| There was cavalry, infantry, bugle, and drum, | |
| Full seven thousand, in pomp and parade, | |
| The chivalry, flower of Mexico; | 5 |
| And a gaunt two hundred in the Alamo! | |
| |
| And thirty lay sick, and some were shot through; | |
| For the siege had been bitter, and bloody, and long. | |
| Surrender, or die!Men, what will you do? | |
| And Travis, great Travis, drew sword, quick and strong; | 10 |
| Drew a line at his feet
Will you come? Will you go? | |
| I die with my wounded, in the Alamo. | |
| |
| The Bowie gasped, Lead me over that line! | |
| Then Crockett, one hand to the sick, one hand to his gun, | |
| Crossed with him; then never a word or a sign | 15 |
| Till all, sick or well; all, all save but one, | |
| One man. Then a woman stopped, praying, and lo | |
| Took her place to die in the Alamo. | |
| |
| Then that one coward fled, in the night, in that night; | |
| When all men silently prayed and thought | 20 |
| Of home; of to-morrow; of God and the right, | |
| Till dawn; then Travis and cannon shot, | |
| In answer to insolent Mexico, | |
| From the old bell tower of the Alamo. | |
| |
| Then came Santa Ana; a crescent of flame! | 25 |
| Then the red escalade: then the fight hand to hand; | |
| Such an unequal fight as never had name | |
| Since the Persian hordes butchered that doomed Spartan band | |
| All day! and all night! and the morning so slow, | |
| Through battle smoke mantling the Alamo. | 30 |
| |
| Then silence! Such silence! Two thousand lay dead | |
| In a crescent outside! And within? Not a breath | |
| Save the gasp of a woman, with gory gashed head, | |
| All alone, all alone there, waiting for death; | |
| And she but a nurse. Yet when shall we know | 35 |
| Another like this of the Alamo? | |
| |
| Shout Victory, victory, victory ho! | |
| I say tis not always for the hosts to win; | |
| I say that the victory, sudden or slow | |
| Is given the hero who grapples with sin, | 40 |
| Or legion or single; just asking to know | |
| When duty fronts death in his Alamo. | |
| |