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قراءة كتاب The Old Hanging Fork and Other Poems
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اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 5
III.
With glad voices the birds as they flit to and fro
Are singing their songs where the pink and the snow
Of the orchard, bedecked in its garments so rare,
Is diffusing and sending its breath on the air;
And the rays of the sun sift through on the grass,
And the dew-drops that sparkle no jewels surpass!
In Springtime at evening, at morning, at noon,
How sweet is the scent of the apple trees' bloom!
Are singing their songs where the pink and the snow
Of the orchard, bedecked in its garments so rare,
Is diffusing and sending its breath on the air;
And the rays of the sun sift through on the grass,
And the dew-drops that sparkle no jewels surpass!
In Springtime at evening, at morning, at noon,
How sweet is the scent of the apple trees' bloom!
IV.
And when Summer is gone, and Autumn has shed
It's soft, dreamy haze through the trees overhead,
On each spreading branch where blossoms now cling
The red and the gold to the fruit it will bring,
And stripe with a skill and give it that blush
Only Nature can paint with her delicate brush!
O when life ebbs away, then make me a tomb
Right out in the orchard, where the apple trees bloom!
It's soft, dreamy haze through the trees overhead,
On each spreading branch where blossoms now cling
The red and the gold to the fruit it will bring,
And stripe with a skill and give it that blush
Only Nature can paint with her delicate brush!
O when life ebbs away, then make me a tomb
Right out in the orchard, where the apple trees bloom!
CHICKAMAUGA.
To Chattanooga's vale, where flows the winding Tennessee,
And rugged Lookout sentinels heroic dust of sixty-three—
Where Chickamauga's gory field re-echoed to the cannon's roar,
And shot and shell through serried ranks a bloody pathway tore,
And mountain slope and wood and field were lumined with the blaze
Of musketry from Blue and Gray in those September days—
They come again, the gallant few, survivors of the fray,
Their breasts with hallowed memories filled, but passion passed away!
And rugged Lookout sentinels heroic dust of sixty-three—
Where Chickamauga's gory field re-echoed to the cannon's roar,
And shot and shell through serried ranks a bloody pathway tore,
And mountain slope and wood and field were lumined with the blaze
Of musketry from Blue and Gray in those September days—
They come again, the gallant few, survivors of the fray,
Their breasts with hallowed memories filled, but passion passed away!
The fleeting years have silvered o'er the locks of those who live,
And turned to dust the sleeping ones who to their flag did give
The last drop of the crimson tide from ghastly wounds poured out
Amid the conflict's awful din and wild resounding shout;
And yet it seems but yesterday, or like a passing dream,
When marshaled on the mountain's side they saw the bayonets gleam,
As for a moment from the vale the battle's smoke was lifted,
And circling o'er the Blue and Gray in lurid clouds it drifted!
And turned to dust the sleeping ones who to their flag did give
The last drop of the crimson tide from ghastly wounds poured out
Amid the conflict's awful din and wild resounding shout;
And yet it seems but yesterday, or like a passing dream,
When marshaled on the mountain's side they saw the bayonets gleam,
As for a moment from the vale the battle's smoke was lifted,
And circling o'er the Blue and Gray in lurid clouds it drifted!
And now upon the blood-soaked ground once more they stand,
Where the unyielding "Rock of Chickamauga" held command,
And strewed the field with heaps of the assaulting Gray
Who dauntless rushed where lines of Blue refused to give the way;
And bloody scenes crowd thick and fast upon the memory here
To fill the heart with grief and dim the eye with misty tear;
And spanning Time's chasm with the imagination's bridge,
They hear the thunder of the guns from Missionary Ridge!
Where the unyielding "Rock of Chickamauga" held command,
And strewed the field with heaps of the assaulting Gray
Who dauntless rushed where lines of Blue refused to give the way;
And bloody scenes crowd thick and fast upon the memory here
To fill the heart with grief and dim the eye with misty tear;
And spanning Time's chasm with the imagination's bridge,
They hear the thunder of the guns from Missionary Ridge!
And there the pyramid of balls is reared to tell
And mark the hallowed spot where tuneful genius fell;
The vagrant winds around it now seem sighing
The requiem sad of "I am dying, Egypt, dying!"
Prophetic words by gallant Lytle penned—
A laurel wreath with immortelles to blend!
A halo hovers round about this gifted son,
Whose deathless name with pen and sword was nobly won!
And mark the hallowed spot where tuneful genius fell;
The vagrant winds around it now seem sighing
The requiem sad of "I am dying, Egypt, dying!"
Prophetic words by gallant Lytle penned—
A laurel wreath with immortelles to blend!
A halo hovers round about this gifted son,
Whose deathless name with pen and sword was nobly won!
They come to mark with tokens of their love and pride
Each consecrated spot where bleeding heroes fell and died,
And gaze with reverence on some gently swelling mound
Which hides the dust of comrade in his sleep profound;
To picture to the mind—with melancholy pleasure trace
The unforgotten outlines of a dear, remembered face,
Which passed from loved ones and from life away,
A victim on the bloody field of fratricidal fray!
Each consecrated spot where bleeding heroes fell and died,
And gaze with reverence on some gently swelling mound
Which hides the dust of comrade in his sleep profound;
To picture to the mind—with melancholy pleasure trace
The unforgotten outlines of a dear, remembered face,
Which passed from loved ones and from life away,
A victim on the bloody field of fratricidal fray!
GENERAL JOHN B. GORDON.
Facile Princeps.
I.
O gifted one of the Sunny South, with lips so eloquent,
In whose great heart no malice e'er was found!
And now thou art a messenger of Peace, by heaven sent
On mission of fraternity, to heal the cankering wound!
In whose great heart no malice e'er was found!
And now thou art a messenger of Peace, by heaven sent
On mission of fraternity, to heal the cankering wound!
II.
In that dread day when fratricidal strife
Convulsed with passion—crimsoned with its blood—
No nobler son than thou who staked his life
With veterans Gray withstood the overwhelming flood!
Convulsed with passion—crimsoned with its blood—
No nobler son than thou who staked his life
With veterans Gray withstood the overwhelming flood!
III.
No sweeter tribute could be paid by mortal tongue—
No nobler sentiment the human heart could fill—
In grander strains no poet's praises e'er were sung
Of private soldier—than thy words that burn and thrill!
No nobler sentiment the human heart could fill—
In grander strains no poet's praises e'er were sung
Of private soldier—than thy words that burn and thrill!
IV.
No treasured wrong within thy noble soul
Has tainted with its slimy trail of hate—
No broader love of country could embrace the whole,
Or bow more gracefully to iron hand of fate!
Has tainted with its slimy trail of hate—
No broader love of country could embrace the whole,
Or bow more gracefully to iron hand of fate!
V.
Speak on! And scatter broadcast healing seed
That shall a harvest of good feeling yield—
And Peace, no less than War, shall lend her meed
And crown anew this hero of the bloody field!
That shall a harvest of good feeling yield—
And Peace, no less than War, shall lend her meed
And crown anew this hero of the bloody field!
UP AND DOWN OLD CLARK'S RUN.
Bright visions of childhood! How dear to the heart
Are the scenes which from memory can never depart!
Undimmed by the sorrows, the grief and the tears
Which have shadowed the pathway of life's later years,
They come like the rainbow which follows the storm—
On
Are the scenes which from memory can never depart!
Undimmed by the sorrows, the grief and the tears
Which have shadowed the pathway of life's later years,
They come like the rainbow which follows the storm—
On