Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BY THE POTOMAC, by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH



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BY THE POTOMAC, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: The soft new grass is creeping o'er the graves
Last Line: And all our heavy heritage of grief.
Variant Title(s): Accomplices
Subject(s): American Civil War; Potomac River; Rivers; United States - History


THE soft new grass is creeping o'er the graves
By the Potomac; and the crisp ground-flower
Tilts its blue cup to catch the passing shower;
The pine-cone ripens, and the long moss waves
Its tangled gonfalons above our braves.
Hark, what a burst of music from yon bower!--
The Southern nightingale that hour by hour
In its melodious summer madness raves.
Ah, with what delicate touches of her hand,
With what sweet voice of bird and rivulet
And drowsy murmur of the rustling leaf
Would Nature soothe us, bidding us forget
The awful crime of this distracted land
And all our heavy heritage of grief.





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