Just Before Crying
Poem By edward serof
To the bloody ravages of a most bloody war
They fell hard, clumps of shattered earth
embraced their wretching pains;
artillery smoke mingled dying breaths
with frosted bloody stains.
Peppered mounds of crumpled flesh
in every hill and dell;
dead served as shielding gun mounts,
Yanks' muskets to prevail.
Seceded soil raised corn, made meal
for standard Union camp fare;
countless dreamt and knew they'd die,
countless more died unaware.
Freedom first hard won, white man begun
when England was the foe,
enslaved now those, no negro chose
his Massah's whip and woe.
Youngblood, mere lads, sons and dads
many barely shouldered arms,
held their lines, got bravely pummeled
marching 'cross the farms.
Bayonet and ball found their home
and buried deep their temper;
lost arms and legs to surgeons' knives,
teeth clinched on muffled whimper.
Widowed breasts of fair yon lass
whose beau's been torn asunder,
rends glossy tress and flails the air,
enraged with Battle's blunder.
Millions of pints of blood were spilt
and sopped our land with hate,
and sapped the hearts and minds of all,
the War had had her date.
North and South, freed and slave
once courted lasting doom-
who's right or wrong amidst such fray,
whose name's etched on his tomb?