(A Long Island incident--early part of the nineteenth
century.)
Amid these days of order, ease,
prosperity,
Amid the current songs of beauty, peace,
decorum,
I cast a reminiscence--(likely 't will offend
you,
I heard it in my boyhood)--More than a generation
since,
A queer old savage man, a fighter under Washington
himself
(Large, brave, cleanly, hot-blooded, no talker,
rather spiritualistic,
Had fought in the ranks--fought
well--had been all through the
Revolutionary war),
Lay
dying--sons, daughters, church-deacons, lovingly tending
him,
Sharping their sense, their ears, towards his
murmuring, half-caught
words:
"Let me return again to
my war-days,
To the sights and scenes--to forming the
line of battle,
To the scouts ahead reconnoitering,
To
the cannons, the grim artillery,
To the galloping aids,
carrying orders,
To the wounded, the fallen, the heat,
the suspense,
The perfume strong, the smoke, the
deafening noise;
Away with your life of peace!--your joys
of peace!
Give me my old wild battle-life again!" |
