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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117491" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Battle Field</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The last fading sunbeam has sunk in the ocean,<br>And darkness has shrouded the forest and hill;<br>The scenes that late rang with the battle's commotion,<br>Now sleep ‘neath the moonbeams serenely and still;<br>Yet light misty vapours above them still hover,<br>And dimly the pale beaming crescent discover,<br>Though all the stern clangour of conflict is over,<br>And hush'd the wild trump-note that echoed so shrill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Around me the steed and the rider are lying,<br>To wake at the bugle's loud summons no more—<br>And here is the banner that o'er them was flying,<br>Torn, trampled, and sullied, with earth and with gore.<br>With morn—where the conflict the wildest was roaring,<br>Where sabres were clashing, and death-shot were pouring,<br>That banner was proudest and loftiest soaring—<br>Now, standard and bearer alike are no more!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All hush'd! not a breathing of life from the numbers<br>That scatter'd around me so heavily sleep,—<br>Hath the cup of red wine lent its fumes to their slumbers,<br>And stain'd their bright garments with crimson so deep?<br>Ah no! these are not like gay revellers sleeping,<br>The night-winds, unfelt, o'er their bosoms are creeping,<br>Ignobly their plumes o'er the damp ground are creeping,<br>And dews, all uncared for, their bright falchions steep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bright are they? at morning they were—ay, at morning,<br>Yon forms were proud warriors, with hearts beating high,<br>The smiles of stern valour their lips were adorning,<br>And triumph flash'd out from the glance of their eye!<br>But now—sadly alter'd, the evening hath found them,<br>They care not for conquest, disgrace cannot wound them,<br>Distinct but in name, from the earth spread around them,<br>Beside their red broad-swords, unconscious, they lie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How still is the scene! save when dismally whooping,<br>The night-bird afar hails the gathering gloom;<br>Or a heavy sound tells that their comrades are scooping<br>A couch, where the sleepers may rest in the tomb.<br>Alas! ere yon planet again shall be lighted,<br>What hearts shall be broken, what hopes will be blighted,<br>How many, ‘midst sorrow's dark storm-clouds benighted,<br>Shall envy, e'en while they lament, for their doom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh war! when thou ‘rt clothed in the garments of glory,<br>When Freedom has lighted thy torch at her shrine<br>And proudly thy deeds are emblazon'd in story,<br>We think not, we feel not, what horrors are thine.<br>But oh! when the victors and vanquish'd have parted,<br>When lonely we stand on the war-ground deserted,<br>And think on the dead, and on those broken-hearted,<br>Thy blood-sprinkled laurel-wreath ceases to shine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Elizabeth+Margaret+Chandler">Elizabeth Margaret Chandler</a> from <i>Poetical Works</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117491" data-title="The Battle Field de Elizabeth Margaret Chandler" data-description="The last fading sunbeam has sunk in the ocean,/And darkness has shrouded the forest and hill;/The scenes that late rang with the battle's commotion,/Now sleep ‘neath the moonbeams serenely and still;/Yet light misty vapours above them still hove..."></div>
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