Poems (Odom)/Appeal to President Johnson in Behalf of Jefferson Davis
APPEAL TO PRESIDENT JOHNSON, IN BEHALF OF JEFFERSON DAVIS.
Oh, pardon the captive! his power has fled;His banner lies low with his numberless dead, Never more to unfurl in its glory:Then spare but the life of the stricken old chief,Whose days, at the most, will be weary and brief, In a land that already is gory.
His flower of manhood has faded and gone,Its leaves lie unheeded and withered alone, The tottering stem is decaying;Then oh! touch it not with a merciless hand,But heed the wild plea of a desolate land That now for its chieftain is praying.
Yes, kneeling we pray, by the hopes that have flown,By all the wild anguish and woe we have known, By hearts that are bleeding and broken,By the shades of the heroes who sleep in their gore, By the war-blackened homes that shall know them no more, We pray that his pardon be spoken.
Oh, wildly and tearfully now we implore,The return of the chief who will lead us no more; We ask but his freedom in dying!Then talk not of "justice to fall on his head,"But twine the white roses of mercy instead, Where thorns for so long have been lying.
Say, has he not borne with the prison and chain,With martyr-like patience forborne to complain, Through sickness and solitude dreary?Hushed the wail in his heart for the cause he has lost,Murmured not o'er the bier of the hopes that were crossed, Of a life rendered wretched and weary?
Ah! did he not suffer enough in the hourThat saw his cause sink, like a storm-stricken flower, His flag furled for ever and ever?The wife of his bosom sent far from his side,— His little ones floating on charity's tide, And feel he could rescue them never?
Is this not enough? Then turn to the past,Turn back to the deeds that forever will last, The record on Honor's bright portal;The Union then rang with the now hated name,The statesman, the soldier, the darling of fame, The Davis, whose name is immortal.
Then for what he has been, oh! pardon him now;When death-dews are gathering fast on his brow, List but to humanity's pleading;And if he has erred—if his deeds were a crime,'T will but make thy mission nearer the sublime To bind up the heart that is bleeding.
Then, when the death shadows shall darken thy soul,When o'er thee eternity's waters shall roll, Thus add to thy chaplet in heavenThe leaves that are brightest and purest—the bestThat angels can weave in the land of the blest, For those who forgive are forgiven.
Vicksburg, Miss., Oct. 30, 1866.