Poems (Piatt)/Volume 1/Hearing the Battle

by Sarah Piatt

MISCELLANEOUS.

HEARING THE BATTLE. [July 21, 1861.]

One day in the dreamy summer, On the Sabbath hills, from afarWe heard the solemn echoes Of the first fierce words of war.

A, tell me, thou veiléd Watcher Of the storm and the calm to come,How long by the sun or shadow Till these noises again are dumb.

And soon in a hush and glimmer We thought of the dark, strange fight,Whose close in a ghastly quiet Lay dim in the beautiful night.

Then we talked of coldness and pallor, And of things with blinded eyesThat stared at the golden stillness Of the moon in those lighted skies;

And of souls, at morning wrestling In the dust with passion and moan,So far away at evening In the silence of worlds unknown.

But a delicate wind beside us Was rustling the dusky hours,As it gathered the dewy odours Of the snowy jessamine-flowers.

And I gave you a spray of the blossoms, And said: "I shall never knowHow the hearts in the land are breaking, My dearest, unless you go."

Washington, D. C.