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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117552" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Looking At The Soldiers</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Mother, the trumpets are sounding to-day,<br>And the soldiers go by in their gallant array!<br>Their horses prance gaily, their banners float free,<br>Come, come to the window, dear mother, with me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Do you see how their bayonets gleam in the sun,<br>And their soldier-plumes nod, as they slowly march on?<br>And look to the regular tread of their feet!<br>Keeping time to the sound of the kettle-drum's beat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“This, mother, you know, is a glorious day,<br>And Americans all should be joyous and gay;<br>For the Fourth of July saw our country set free;<br>But you look not delighted, dear mother, like me!”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“No, love; for that shining and brilliant display,<br>To me only tells of war's fearful array;<br>And I know that those bayonets, flashing so bright,<br>Were made in man's blood to be spoil'd of their light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“And the music that swells up so sweet to the ear,<br>In a long gush of melody, joyous and clear,<br>Just as freely would pour out its wild thrilling flood,<br>To stir up men's hearts to the shedding of blood!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Our country, my boy, as you tell me, is free,<br>But even that thought brings a sadness to me;<br>For less guilt would be hers, were her own fetter'd hand<br>Unable to loosen her slaves from their band.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“We joy that our country's light bonds have been broke,<br>But her sons wear, by thousands, a life-crushing yoke;<br>And yon bayonets, dear, would be sheathed in their breast,<br>Should they fling off the shackles that round them are prest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Even ‘midst these triumphant rejoicings, to-day,<br>The slave-mother weeps for her babes, torn away,<br>'Midst the echoing burst of these shouts, to be sold,<br>Human forms as they are, for a pittance of gold!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Can you wonder then, love, that your mother is sad,<br>Though yon show is so gay, and the crowd is so glad?<br>Or will not my boy turn with me from the sight,<br>To think of those slaves sunk in sorrow and night?”</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=117552" data-title="Looking At The Soldiers de Elizabeth Margaret Chandler" data-description="“Mother, the trumpets are sounding to-day,/And the soldiers go by in their gallant array!/Their horses prance gaily, their banners float free,/Come, come to the window, dear mother, with me./“Do you see how their bayonets gleam in the sun,/And..."></div>
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