 | In Classic Shades and other poems |  |
93
AFTER THE WAR.
Yes, bread! I want bread! You heard what I said,
Yet you stand and you stare,
As if never before came a tramp to your door
With such insolent air.
Yet you stand and you stare,
As if never before came a tramp to your door
With such insolent air.
Would I work? Never learned.—My home it was burned;
And I have n't yet found
Any heart to plow lands and build homes for red hands
That burned mine to the ground.
And I have n't yet found
Any heart to plow lands and build homes for red hands
That burned mine to the ground.
No bread! you have said?—Then my curse on your head!
And, what shall sting worse,
On that wife at your side, on those babes in their pride,
Fall my seven-fold curse!—
And, what shall sting worse,
On that wife at your side, on those babes in their pride,
Fall my seven-fold curse!—
94
Good bye! I must l'arn to creep into your barn;
Suck your eggs; hide away;
Sneak around like a hound—light a match in your hay—
Limp away through the gray!
Suck your eggs; hide away;
Sneak around like a hound—light a match in your hay—
Limp away through the gray!
Yes, I limp—curse these stones! And then my old bones—
They were riddled with ball
Down at Shiloh. What, you? You war wounded thar, too?
Well, you beat us—that's all.
They were riddled with ball
Down at Shiloh. What, you? You war wounded thar, too?
Well, you beat us—that's all.
Yet even my heart with a stout pride will start
As I tramp. For, you see,
No matter which won, it was gallantly done,
And a glorious American victory.
As I tramp. For, you see,
No matter which won, it was gallantly done,
And a glorious American victory.
What, kind words and bread? God's smiles on your head!
On your wife on your babes!—and please, sir, I pray
You'll pardon me, sir; but that fight trenched me here,
Deep—deeper than sword-cut that day.
On your wife on your babes!—and please, sir, I pray
You'll pardon me, sir; but that fight trenched me here,
Deep—deeper than sword-cut that day.
95
Nay. I'll go. Sir, adieu! Tu Tityre
[OMITTED] You
Have Augustus for friend—
I—Yes, read and speak both Latin and Greek,
And talk slang without end.
Have Augustus for friend—
I—Yes, read and speak both Latin and Greek,
And talk slang without end.
Hey? Oxford. But, then, when the wild cry for men
Rang out through the gathering night
As a mother who cries for her first born that dies,
We two hurried home for the fight.
Rang out through the gathering night
As a mother who cries for her first born that dies,
We two hurried home for the fight.
How noble my brother, how brave—and—but there—
This tramping about somehow hurts my eyes.
At Shiloh! We stood 'neath the hill by the wood—
It 's a graveyard to-day, I surmise.
This tramping about somehow hurts my eyes.
At Shiloh! We stood 'neath the hill by the wood—
It 's a graveyard to-day, I surmise.
Yes we stood to the last! And when the strife passed
I sank down in blood at his side.
On his brow, on his breast—what need tell the rest?—
I but knew that my brother had died.
I sank down in blood at his side.
On his brow, on his breast—what need tell the rest?—
I but knew that my brother had died.
What! wounds on your breast? Your brow tells the rest?
You fought at my side and you fell?
You the brave boy that stood at my side in that wood,
On that blazing red border of hell?
You fought at my side and you fell?
You the brave boy that stood at my side in that wood,
On that blazing red border of hell?
96
My brother! My own! Never king on his throne
Knew a joy like this brought to me.
God bless you, my life; bless your brave Northern wife,
And your beautiful babes, two and three.
Knew a joy like this brought to me.
God bless you, my life; bless your brave Northern wife,
And your beautiful babes, two and three.
| In Classic Shades and other poems | |