Fire! Poem by John Bliven Morin

“REAAAA-DY” called the Captain, calmly.
Private Bobby shook with fear;
A thousand grim, gray men appeared there,
Through the smoke of cannons here.

Through the hellfire of the grapeshot,
Through the broken trees they came;
Bearded men and beardless boys there,
A thousand men without a name.

“AIMMMM! ” the Captain’s voice resounded.
Private Bobby dropped his gun,
Dropped his haversack and blanket;
Dropped it all and turned to run.

Running through the lines of blue men,
Through the lines of infantry,
Between the fire-belching cannons,
Toward his bonny Meg ran he.

But wait - what happened just this morning?
Court Martial, death and “O my God! ”
“No! ” he screamed beneath his blindfold;
“FIRE! ” The Captain to his squad.

On a small farm in New England,
A woman cried out from her bed;
“Meg, what’s wrong? ” her mother asked.
“Alas, ” she sobbed, “my Bobby’s dead! ”