Classic and Contemporary Poetry
DAISY SWAIN, THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH; A TALE OF THE REBELLION: 3, by JOHN M. DAGNALL First Line: Upon the balmy breeze of that same morning Last Line: * * * Subject(s): American Civil War; Beauty; Death; Love; Soldiers; United States - History; Women; Dead, The | ||||||||
Reuben's Alarm at the Sound of Battle -- Daisy's Absence from the Cot -- Her Return Home with the Wounded Soldier Upon the balmy breeze of that same morning Reuben, the peasant, from his smiling cot, Heard the battle's horrid din resound, And saw, afar, thick, sulphurous smoke dimly Rear in black wreaths to'ards the glaring sun. 'Twas but an hour before the valley rang With war's alarm, that in the morning ray, he O'er his neat fields trod; nor feared to meet Friend or enemy of the warring bands. Both were foes to him. For when the roar of Booming cannon echoed on his startled ear, He thought that ere the evening came, he'd look Upon his burning cot and wander round A homeless man. But twilight came. Long since The battle's warlike blasts had died away; And glad he was to find his fields were still Adorned with waving grain. But when he saw His beloved child was not at home to cheer Him with her pleasing smile, and bless him at The evening board, a poignant pang went straight To his heart, that some mishap his daughter Had befallen. For no tidings of her had Arrived, since, in the gleam of morning's sunshine, Her father's cot she quit, to saunter through Her native vale; and blithe and jocund wind Amid its green retreats; joyously scent The woodbine wild, and quaff the balmy air; And to let the zephyr of fragrant meads Mellow in deeper tints her beamy face. But as she gayly tripp'd with fawn-like steps, Through green paths, observing with enraptured eye, The varied landscape o'er -- her soul's delight -- And breathing sylvan sweets with spirits gay, War's infernal gong through the surrounding hills, Reverbrated [sic] loud and pierced her ears. The dread shocks her heart's blood stagnated. Fear Forced its livid pallor o'er her roseate cheeks, Which marred awhile the lustre of their bloom. But the rose ne'er drooped. The shock was but A passing gust, which chilled awhile her warm blood, As she soon revived and glowed again in All her fullness of sweet budding charms. * * * At length the din of battle paused upon Her ears. Twilight shadows round her gathered; And setting sun-beams faintly gleamed upon A rolling cloud, whose ruffled crest, bright plumed With crimson tints, passed o'er her. Thus forewarned Of night approaching the shadowy rock, On which she sat, up she quickly rose, and Down through the hillside's winding paths she ran Towards the cot. Scarce had she neared a glade, Ere she heard, upon the evening wind, screams Of woe. Bewildered quite, she quickly turned Around and gazed about, above, below; Peeped through the murky glare of eve, but nothing Saw of life. Then she wondered whence the sound Arose, and what it could have been: listen'd Like a hare startled by game-dogs on the scent: Still, all was silent round, save the rustling Of leaves, the barking of tree-toads, whimp'ring Of bats, and the incessant buzz of insects, Holding their nocturnal jubilees. So, she fancied that the wail she heard was Perhaps a catbird's woful [sic] mew, and hasten'd On again along her woodland way. But ere Her nimble feet had measured paces few, The groan again, more agonizing still, Burst on her ears. Appalled at the sound, she shrank, Like the tendrils of a fragile flower In a chill autumnal gust of wind, still. Soon her doubting fears were gone; as, she knew Full well that such a sad lament could only From a human soul distressed issue. Then, soon, Compassion moved her. Through a willow copse She hied, slow pacing cautiously, and reached The margin of the stream where lay half dead, The wounded soldier. Soon the tender fair one Tremblingly bent o'er him and closely scann'd Him with her pity-gleaming eyes. She saw The light of life still flickered in his heart; But wav'ring on the balance side of death Whose shadow glimly danced upon his features, Which in their livid aspect seemed to her So beautiful, so mild. Then, with mute surprise, She viewed his anguished mien, and wound all bare: And dropt in cleansing tears, the limpid chlorine Of her soul, upon his bleeding scar. A transitory smart he felt. He muttered "Oh!" and casting up his glassy eyes, he saw, Low bending o'er him, so grateful in the gloom, And all compassionate, the maiden fair in White robe meekly clad. "O Heavenly Father! What angel from thy throne of glory hath Fled, to chant the sad requiem o'er my cold clay?" He cried. "One whom a ruling Providence Hath hither sent, the friendless to befriend, The helpless to save," she cried: saying which, She brushed the matted locks back from his brow. Then, she from her side a napkin took, Saturated o'er with dew, and with it laved His pallid brow; his parched lips moistened; plucked A plantain leaf which on the streamlet's margin Grew, and with its cooling texture improvised A bandage for his wound; then tied it with A ringlet of her auburn hair. Meanwhile, She made his prospects of recovery bright; Told him, that not far from thence safe, nestled In a grove, he would within her father's cot A refuge find. This cheering hope his soul Elated. Forthwith his glad heart urged his hand To be extended to the gentle maid. She took it kindly in her own and raised, With all the strength her fragile structure had, Him from the blood-stained ground. Faltering, He leaned his right arm on her shoulder. Halting At alternate steps to breathe. Well she bore The burden of his weight, without a murmur, With maidenly resolution all the way Thro' thicket paths, 'cross glades; guided only By the light which faintly glimmer'd from the cot. Then, soon before its wicket gate they stood. Quick the maiden pushed it open; as quick Upon its thongs elastic back it swung, And grated harshly on the latch. The pointer Barked and quickly scented the stranger; while The father to his feet started up, grasped His gun, and to the door ran just as she knocked. The gentle tap he knew came from his daughter. Quick the door flew back, creaking on its hinges, Upon the threshold stood the anxious father, With extended arms to clasp his daughter; But back a pace he bounded, as his eyes In started sockets stared upon his child, All fagged, all faint, with the feeble soldier. Soon the mute appeal of Athol's wound went To the parents' hearts. Warm commiseration Thawed from out their breasts the icy chill of fear, As they soon placed him on a mattress near Some hick'ry faggots blazing, a helpless, But a welcome guest beneath their roof. * * * | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRIEND KILLED IN THE WAR by ANTHONY HECHT FOR JAMES MERRILL: AN ADIEU by ANTHONY HECHT TARANTULA: OR THE DANCE OF DEATH by ANTHONY HECHT CHAMPS D?ÇÖHONNEUR by ERNEST HEMINGWAY NOTE TO REALITY by TONY HOAGLAND DAISY SWAIN, THE FLOWER OF SHENADOAH; A TALE OF THE REBELLION: 1 by JOHN M. DAGNALL DAISY SWAIN, THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH; A TALE OF THE REBELLION: 10 by JOHN M. DAGNALL DAISY SWAIN, THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH; A TALE OF THE REBELLION: 2 by JOHN M. DAGNALL |
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