 | Poems by Elizabeth Akers (Florence Percy) |  |
19
MY SOLDIER.
Upon a hard-won battle-field,
Whose recent blood-stains shock the skies,
By hasty burial half-concealed,
With death in his dear eyes,
My soldier lies.
Whose recent blood-stains shock the skies,
By hasty burial half-concealed,
With death in his dear eyes,
My soldier lies.
Oh, thought more sharp than bayonet-thrust,—
Of blood-drops on his silken hair,
Of his white forehead in the dust,
Of his last gasping prayer,
And I not there!
Of blood-drops on his silken hair,
Of his white forehead in the dust,
Of his last gasping prayer,
And I not there!
I know, while his warm life escaped,
And his blue eyes closed shudderingly,
His heart's last fluttering pulses shaped
One yearning wish for me,—
Oh agony!
And his blue eyes closed shudderingly,
His heart's last fluttering pulses shaped
One yearning wish for me,—
Oh agony!
For I, in cruel ignorance,
While yet his last sigh pained the air,
I trifled,—sung or laughed, perchance,
With roses in my hair,
All unaware.
While yet his last sigh pained the air,
20
With roses in my hair,
All unaware.
In dreams I see him fall again,
Where cannons roar and guidons wave,—
Then wake to hear the lonesome rain,
Weeping the fallen brave,
Drip on his grave.
Where cannons roar and guidons wave,—
Then wake to hear the lonesome rain,
Weeping the fallen brave,
Drip on his grave.
Since treason sought our country's heart,
Ah, fairer body never yet
From nobler soul was torn apart;
No braver blood has wet
Her coronet.
Ah, fairer body never yet
From nobler soul was torn apart;
No braver blood has wet
Her coronet.
No spirit more intense and fine
Strives where her starry banners wave;
No gentler face, beloved, than thine,
Sleeps in a soldier's grave,—
No heart more brave.
Strives where her starry banners wave;
No gentler face, beloved, than thine,
Sleeps in a soldier's grave,—
No heart more brave.
And, though his mound I may not trace,
Or weep above his buried head,
The grateful spring shall find the place,
And with her blossoms spread
His quiet bed.
Or weep above his buried head,
21
And with her blossoms spread
His quiet bed.
The soul I loved is still alive,
The name I loved is Freedom's boast;
I clasp these helpful truths, and strive
To feel, though great the cost,
Nothing is lost;
The name I loved is Freedom's boast;
I clasp these helpful truths, and strive
To feel, though great the cost,
Nothing is lost;
Since all of him that erst was dear
Is safe; his life was nobly spent,
And it is well. Oh, draw Thou near,
Light my bewilderment,
Make me content!
Is safe; his life was nobly spent,
And it is well. Oh, draw Thou near,
Light my bewilderment,
Make me content!
| Poems by Elizabeth Akers (Florence Percy) | |