Period Poem: After the Battle

lelliott19

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Weeping Angel.JPG

AFTER THE BATTLE
By Miss Agnes Leonard


...But a change had fallen sadly, o'er the young and beauteous land,
Brothers on the field fought madly, that once wandered hand in hand.

And the hearts of distant mountains shuddered with a fearful wonder,
As the echos burst upon them, of the cannon's awful thunder.
Through the long hours waged the battle, till the setting of the sun
Dropped a seal upon the record, that the day's mad work was done.

Thickly on the trampled grasses lay the battle's awful traces,
'Mid the bloodstained clover blossoms lay the stark and ghastly faces,
With no mourners bending downward o'er a costly funeral pall;
And the dying daylight softly with the starlight watched o'er all.

And, where eager, joyous footsteps once perchance were want to pass,
Ran a little streamlet making one blue fold in the dark grass.
And where, from its hidden fountain, clear and bright the brooklet burst,
Two had crawled, and each was bending o'er to slake his burning thirst.

Then beneath the solemn starlight of the radiant jeweled skies,
Both had turned and were intently gazing into each other's eyes.
Both were solemnly forgiving - hushed the pulse of passion's breath,
Calmed the maddening thirst for battle - by the chilling hand of death.

Then spoke one, in bitter anguish, "God have pity on my wife,
And my children in New Hampshire, orphans by this cruel strife."
And the other, leaning closer, underneath the solemn sky,
Bowed his head to hide the moisture gathering in his downcast eye.

"I've a wife and little daughter, 'mid the fragrant Georgia bloom,
Then his cry rang sharper, wilder, "Oh God! pity all their gloom."
And the wounded in their death hour, talking of the loved one's woes,
Nearer drew unto each other, till they were no longer foes.

And the Georgian listened sadly as the other tried to speak,
While the tears were dropping softly o'er the pallor of his cheek.
"How she used to stand and listen, looking o'er the fields for me,
Waiting til she saw me coming, 'neath the shadowy old plum tree.
Never more I'll hear her laughter, as she sees me at the gate,
And beneath the plum tree's shadows, all in vain for me she'll wait."

Then the Georgian, speaking softly, said, "A brown eyed little one
Used to wait among the roses for me, when the day was done;
And amid the early fragrance of those blossoms, fresh and sweet,
Up and down the old veranda, I would chase my darling's feet.

But on earth no more the beauty of her face my eye shall greet,
Nevermore I'll hear the music of those merry pattering feet.
Ah, the solemn starlight, falling on the far-off Georgia bloom,
Tells no tale unto my darling of her absent father's doom.

Through the tears that rose between them, both were trying grief to smother
As they clasped each other's fingers whispering, "Let's forgive each other."

When the morning sun was walking, up the gray stairs of the dawn,
And the crimson east was flushing all the forehead of the morn,
Pitying skies were looking sadly at the once, proud happy land,
On the Southron and the Northman, holding tight each other's hand.
Fatherless the golden tresses, watching 'neath the old plum tree.
Fatherless the little Georgian, sporting in unconscious glee.

Chicago Journal of Commerce, June 1863.

"The Weeping Angel" [image] marks the grave of Rev. Thomas Teasdale in Friendship Cemetery, Columbus, Mississippi. The cemetery contains the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers who died during and after the Battle of Shiloh.
 
These are always so awful to read, aren't they? Someone wrote this from somewhere excruciating to them, which is what poetry is, really. It pokes at experience you'd flinch away from, good and bad out of self preservation.

Beyond the occasional shot at how glorious is war, most war time poets can send you back to be for the day with a pillow over your head as emotional Kevlar. Very evocative stuff.
 
Lovely. As a poet, I really love to read what others have written. I can tell you that once written, you feel so free from the emotion that drove you to write in the first place.
 
Thank you for this awesome posting. We must never forget the human toll of war, the horror and pain, the "collateral damage" to families. Negotiate, compromise, pray, pray... that war never breaks out among our brothers again.
 
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