TINTYPE OF A PRIVATE OF THE FIFTEENTH GEORGIA INFANTRY
by Paul Horgan
(1905- )

Lynx-eyed, cat-quiet, sleepy mild,
He could seem a wary child,
His tilted head a little turned
Like one who very early learned
Of unexpectedness in life.
But the blade within his knife
Is the razor temper in his bone
Which he never had to hone
To edge it ready for the kill.
Surely light-voiced, lounging still,
Southern-sweet at mouth and brow,
Once provoked, he'd show you how
In an instant he could spring
To be the death of anything.
The yellow gaze in his sighting eye
Will never flick when his bullets fly.

Soldier Life

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Last modified 18-April-2001