Under A Spreading Tree Poem by Dennis Lange

Was there a shade at Gettysburg or Waterloo?
At Marathon, was there a spreading tree, a view
Where one could set his chair and watch the battlefield,
See flash of swords - while from the sun his own face shield?

Beneath the safety of a branch, with drink in hand,
Was the advance of one against the other's stand
Watched as an act within a play upon a stage,
Or read as if one's eyes were on a distant page?

Did one e'er watch and hear the mighty battle cry,
The call to charge across the field, and there to die,
And be at ease as if the hounds were at the fox,
While men were shedding blood on grass and hollyhocks?

Perhaps there is no one whose heart and blood's so cold
That there could sit as if he'd bought a ticket sold.
It's easier to be detached from agony
While safe at home and sitting 'neath a spreading tree.