Mollie Evelyn Moore Davis

Mollie Evelyn Moore Davis Poems

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Chikamauga

The sharp, clear crack of rifles, and the deep
Loud thunder of artillery; the flash
Of bayonets, and the arrowy sweep
Of keen-edged sabres; the most fearful clash
Of meeting squadrons, and the pride
Of hostile banners! How they fought who died
By the River of Death!

Morn dawned upon the field, the bugle's blast
Wound out its shrilly summons and the word
Leaped down the lines, and fiery hearts beat fast:
Two gallant armies bared the murderous sword,
And fearless breasted battle's bitter waves,
And eager thousands sought their nameless graves
By the River of Death!

And many eyes grew dim; the labored breath
Fled many a young and gallant breast;
And many an arm grew rigid there: but Death
Urged on the carnage, and they knew no rest,
Those panting hosts. Our banner kept its pride,
But its blood-stained stars tell how they fought who died
By the River of Death!

And Texas' fearless sons were there: they bared
Their bosoms to the shock and met the tide,
As their own forests meet the storm; they dared
Their splendid foe with all his bannered pride:
Their hearts were in the struggle, for they thought
Of their free fair homes in Texas, as they fought
By the River of Death!

His heart beat high amid the deepening strife,
That stalwart Texan's heart! His manly breast
Caught in his veins a new, a holy light.
As on that reeking plain, where crest met crest,
A thought of Texas, with her lovely plains,
Came o'er his heart like music's soothing strains ,
By the River of Death!

The free fair plains of Texas and her hills
With rich dark valleys sleeping soft between;
Her moss-hung forests and her willowy rills,
Her streams like silver in the noonday sheen;-
The free, fair plains of Texas! how the thought
Of all their beauty nerved him as he fought
By the River of Death!

His boyhood's home amid the shadows lying,
Beneath his own, his sunny western skies!
His mother and his sisters! 'Mid the dying
How is it that a new fire lights his eyes,
As these thoughts weep like lightning through his breast?
. . . .The day drags on: the strong arms know no rest
By the River of Death!

By the River of Death! 'Twas there he fell
As only Freedom's own can fall! his eye
Still lit with triumph, and his heart, as slow
It ceased its own faint earth-born melody,
To battle's raging chorus keeping time -
The 'infinite, fierce chorus' - that mad chime
By the River of Death!

A single thought o'ershadowed him, his eye
Grew troubled for one moment, then 'twas o'er -
'His fair young wife. his dark-eyed boy, to die
Far from them!' The cannon's lordly roar
Broke on his ear, his eye caught back its pride,
His lax hand grasped his falling gun: he died
By the River of Death!

He died, and night with clouded skies looked down
Upon his burial. The torch-light red
Glared fitfully about; they gathered 'round,
His comrades, sadly silent near the dead.
They wrapped him in his blanket,-song nor prayer
Awoke the stillness, as they laid him there
By the River of Death!

Buried upon the field! 'Tis meet, for why
Should warriors rest where peaceful churchyards are?
Why should they sleep where battle's trumpet-cry
Was never heard, nor breath of glorious war?
Upon their field of glory, on the plain
Where Death's strange voice hath hushed the noble slain,
There let them lie.

At home, the sweet young wife droops like a flower,
His prattling babe hushed sadly by her knee-
His boy, his laughing boy, whose earthly dower
Is fatherless childhood! Ah, the sunbeams flee
That darkened hearth, and free the shadows stray,
Shadows born there since that fateful day
By the River of Death!

The camp-fire in the distant wood gleams red,
The soldiers group about the ruddy light,
And count in softened tones the noble dead -
The dead! 'It thinned our ranks so, that last fight!
The brave who fell like brothers, side by side!'
And then his comrades tell how well he fought, who died
By the River of Death!

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