Skimming lightly, wheeling still, The swallows fly low Over the field in clouded days, The forest-field of Shiloh -- Over the field where April rain Solaced the parched ones stretched in pain Through the pause of night That followed the Sunday fight Around the church of Shiloh -- The church so lone, the log-built one, That echoed to many a parting groan And natural prayer Of dying foemen mingled there -- Foemen at morn, but friends at eve -- Fame or country least their care: (What like a bullet can undeceive!) But now they lie low, While over them the swallows skim, And all is hushed at Shiloh. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCOLIC COMEDY: SPRING by EDITH SITWELL THE GOLD-SEEKERS by HAMLIN GARLAND THE BIGLOW PAPERS: 3. WHAT MR. ROBINSON THINKS by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE DEATH OF AUTUMN by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY A WORKING PARTY by SIEGFRIED SASSOON THE AGE OF WISDOM by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY VERIS ET FAVONI by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 40 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |