IN MOURNING.
131
IN MOURNING.
You say I must be calm, and try to bear
This chastisement as a brave woman should,
Content, nay, prideful, that I've yielded up
The life of my life for my country's good.
This chastisement as a brave woman should,
Content, nay, prideful, that I've yielded up
The life of my life for my country's good.
I must be calm,—well, stone is not more calm!
I do not wring my hands, or beat my breast;
My eyes are dry; I've not a tear to shed,—
My fretful weeping might disturb his rest.
I do not wring my hands, or beat my breast;
My eyes are dry; I've not a tear to shed,—
My fretful weeping might disturb his rest.
Sighs come not from my lips; feeling is dead;
Only a dull endurance reigns within,—
Disturbed, at times, by longings wild and vague
To cast off life, it is so cold and grim.
Only a dull endurance reigns within,—
Disturbed, at times, by longings wild and vague
To cast off life, it is so cold and grim.
An open grave lies ever at my feet,
Whether I wake, or toss in restless sleep;
I smell the damp fresh mould, and hear the spade
Go crunching down, to make it dark and deep.
Whether I wake, or toss in restless sleep;
I smell the damp fresh mould, and hear the spade
Go crunching down, to make it dark and deep.
I see him lying by its ghastly brink;
The crimson banner with its bars of white,
Bought with his life, folding his quiet breast,
And gleaming blood-red through the moonlit night.
The crimson banner with its bars of white,
Bought with his life, folding his quiet breast,
And gleaming blood-red through the moonlit night.
He looked his last upon the fair blue sky,
Clouded with smoke of battle's lurid breath;
Clouded with smoke of battle's lurid breath;
