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Poetry: Not On The Battle Field

Poetry: Not On The Battle Field image
Parent Issue
Day
8
Month
January
Year
1844
Copyright
Public Domain
Additional Text

First published in the December 1843 issue of Godey's Lady's Book.

Poem
OCR Text

To fall on the bnttle field fightine for my dear country - that would not be hard.' - MS. in Miss Bremer'i 'JYeighbors.' 0 no, no, - let me lie Not on a field of battle, when I die! Let not the iron trcad Of the mad war-horse crush niy helmed head; Nor let the reeking kniiè, That I have drawn ngainst a brother'e life, Be in my hand, when deatb. Thtinders long, and tramplos me beneath His heavy equadron's heel?, Or gory felloes of his ennnon's wheels. From snch a dying bed, Though o'er it floot the stripes of white and reo, . And the bald Eagle brings The efcistered stars upon hifi widc-?pread wiftjjp, To pparkle in my sight, O, never let my spirit take her flight. 1 know that Beauty's eye Is all ihe bnghter where gay pennants fiy, And brazen helmets dance, And sunshine flashes on tho lifled lance: - I know that bards have sung-, And neople shouled, till the weikin rung, In honor of the brave, VVho on the bittïe field have found agrave; I know that, o'er tht-ir bones, Ilaverateful htnds piled monumental stones. Somc of thee piles I've seen: - The one'at Lexington, upon the green, Where the first blood wns 6hed, Tijat to my county's independence led; And ofhere, on our shore, 'The BattJe MononieHt' at Bnlümore, Andtlmton Bunker's Uill, Ay, andabroad, a fow more iamous still; Thy 'Tomb,' Themistocles, Thatlooks out }'et upon the Giecian seas, And w'hich the waters kiss Tha: issue from the julf of Sal&m6; - And thine, too, have I seen, Thy mound ofeaith, Palroclus,robed in green,. That, like a natural knoll, Sheep clitnb and nibble over, as fhéy troll, Wa'ched by eome turban'd boy, Upon the margin of theplain of Troy. Such honors gracá the bed, I know, whcreon tho warrlor lays his head, And hoars, as life otbs out, The conquered flying, and the conqueror's shout. But as his oyes grow dim, aWhat is & column, or a mound to hitn? What to the parting soul, The mellow note of bngles! What th roll Ofdrums? No, let me dio Where the blue heaven bends o'er me lovingly,And tbc soft summerair, As it poos by me, stirs my thin wliito hair, And, from my forehead, dries The death-damp, ns it g-athers, and the ekies Seem wailing to receive Mysoulto their clear depths!-- Or, let me leave The world, when, round my bed, Wife, childrcn, weeping friends are galhered, And the calm voice of prayer And holy hymning ahall my soul prepare To go and be at rest, Wilh kindred apirits - spirits who have bleBsed The human brotherhood By Iabor6, cares, and counsele for tbeir good. And, in my dyinjr Iiour, When riches, fame, and honor have no power To bear the spirit up, Ör from my lips to turn aside the cup, That all must drink, at last, O, let me draw refreshment from the past! Then, let my soul run back, With peace and joy, along my earthly track, And see that. all the seeds, That 1 haveecaUeredthere, in virtuous deeds, Have 6prung up, and have given, Already, fruits of which to taste is heaven! And though no grassy mound Or granite pilo say 'tis heroic ground, Where my remains repose, Süllwilll hope - vain hopo, perhaps! - that those, Whom I have Btriven to blees, The wanderer reclaiaaed, the falherless,- May etand around my grave, With t bc poor prisonor, and the poorer slave, And breathe an humble praycr, That they may die like liira, whose boncs are niouldcring there. Boslonj Sept. 1843,