John Reuben Thompson
John Reuben Thompson Poems
Two armies covered hill and plain,
Where Rappahannock's waters
Ran deeply crimsoned with the stain
Of battle's recent slaughters.
...
To the brave all homage render!
Weep, ye skies of June!
With a radiance pure and tender,
Shine, O saddened moon;
...
We could not pause, while yet the noontide air
Shook with the cannonade's incessant pealing,
The funeral pageant fitly to prepare-
...
Major General Scott
An order had got
To push on the column to Richmond;
For loudly went forth,
...
The warm, weary day, was departing--the smile
Of the sunset gave token the tempest had ceased;
And the lightning yet fitfully gleamed for a while
...
The combat ranged not long, but our's the day;
And through the hosts that compassed us around
Our little band rode proudly on its way,
...
As within the old mansion the holiday throng
Reassembles in beauty and grace,
And some eye looking out of the window by chance,
...
'Hats off' in the crowd. 'Present arms' in the line!
Let the standards all bow, and the sabres incline -
...
Once more to the breach for the Land of the West!
And a leader we give, of our bravest and best,
Of his State and his army the pride;
...
Who talks of coercion? who dares to deny
A resolute people the right to be free?
Let him blot out forever one star from the sky,
...
All ye who with credulity the whispers hear of fancy,
Or yet pursue with eagerness hope's wild extravagancy,
...
Once more to the breach for the land of the West!
And a leader we give of our bravest and best,
Of his State and his army the pride;
...
Dawn of a pleasant morning in May,
Broke through the Wilderness cool and gray;
While perched in the tallest tree-tops, the birds
...
The Best Poem Of John Reuben Thompson
Music In Camp
Two armies covered hill and plain,
Where Rappahannock's waters
Ran deeply crimsoned with the stain
Of battle's recent slaughters.
The summer clouds lay pitched like tents
In meads of heavenly azure;
And each dread gun of the elements
Slept in its hid embrasure.
The breeze so softly blew it made
No forest leaf to quiver,
And the smoke of the random cannonade
Rolled slowly from the river.
And now, where circling hills looked down
With cannon grimly planted,
O'er listless camp and silent town
The golden sunset slanted.
When on the fervid air there came
A strain-now rich, now tender;
The music seemed itself aflame
With day's departing splendor.
A Federal band, which, eve and morn,
Played measures brave and nimble,
Had just struck up, with flute and horn
And lively clash of cymbal.
Down flocked the soldiers to the banks,
Till, margined with its pebbles,
One wooded shore was blue with 'Yanks,'
and one was gray with 'Rebels.'
Then all was still, and then the band,
With movement light and tricksy,
Made stream and forest, hill and strand,
Reverberate with 'Dixie.'
The conscious stream with burnished glow
Went proudly o'er its pebbles,
But thrilled throughout its deepest flow
With yelling of the Rebels.
Again a pause, and then again
The trumpets pealed sonorous,
And 'Yankee Doodle' was the strain
To which the shore gave chorus.
The laughing ripple shoreward flew,
To kiss the shining pebbles;
Loud shrieked the swarming Boys in Blue
Defiance to the Rebels.
And yet once more the bugles sang
Above the stormy riot;
No shout upon the evening rang-
There reigned a holy quiet.
The sad, slow stream its noiseless flood
Poured o'er the glistening pebbles;
All silent now the Yankees stood,
And silent stood the Rebels.
No unresponsive soul had heard
That plaintive note's appealing,
So deeply 'Home Sweet Home' had stirred
The hidden founts of feeling.
Or Blue or Gray, the soldier sees,
As by the wand of fairy,
The cottage 'neath the live-oak trees,
The cabin by the prairie.
Or cold or warm his native skies
Bend in their beauty o'er him;
Seen through the tear-mist in his eyes,
His loved ones stand before him.
As fades the iris after rain
In April's tearful weather,
The vision vanished, as the strain
And daylight died together.
But memory, waked by music's art,
Expressed in simplest numbers,
Subdued the sternest Yankee heart,
Made light the Rebel's slumbers.
And fair the form of music shines,
That bright, celestial creature,
Who still, 'mid war's embattled lines,
Gave this one touch of Nature.
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5/1/2024 8:14:30 AM # 1.0.0.1119
