Page 70

was left dead upon the soil their feet have polluted, and now we must give these graves in the very fields They pillaged. Night was hung its dark curtains around and over the (area), so (?) (?)(?) fire arms, and the flash of the gilttering sabre, in the hands of valliant men. The roar and rush of armies has ceased. All is quiet as the grave, only disturbed by the busy trains of ambulances & the (heart?) (ascending?) groans of the thousand sufferers (?) their voices as piteous discord on every (?). The darkness of the night intensitifed by the clouods of smoke, now setting up - on the earth, with the cries of