Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MARTHY VIRGINIA'S HAND [SEPTEMBER 17, 1862], by GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MARTHY VIRGINIA'S HAND [SEPTEMBER 17, 1862], by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: There, on the left!' said the colonel; the battle had shuddered
Last Line: See! There is lifted the hand of a baby -- marthy virginia's hand!
Subject(s): American Civil War; Antietam, Battle Of (1862); United States - History


"THERE, on the left!" said the colonel; the battle had
shuddered and faded away,
Wraith of a fiery enchantment that left only ashes and
blood-sprinkled clay --
"Ride to the left and examine that ridge, where the enemy's
sharpshooters stood.
Lord, how they picked off our men, from the treacherous
vantage-ground of the wood!
But for their bullets, I'll bet, my batteries sent them
something as good.
Go and explore, and report to me then, and tell me how many we killed.
Never a wink shall I sleep till I know our vengeance was
duly fulfilled."

Fiercely the orderly rode down the slope of the cornfield
-- scarred and forlorn,
Rutted by violent wheels, and scathed by the shot that had
ploughed it in scorn;
Fiercely, and burning with wrath for the sight of his
comrades crushed at a blow,
Flung in broken shapes on the ground like ruined memorials of woe;
These were the men whom at daybreak he knew, but never
again could know.
Thence to the ridge, where roots out-thrust, and twisted
branches of trees
Clutched the hill like clawing lions, firm their prey to seize.

"What's your report?" and the grim colonel smiled when the
orderly came back at last.
Strangely the soldier paused: "Well, they were punished."
And strangely his face looked, aghast.
"Yes, our fire told on them; knocked over fifty -- laid out
in line of parade.
Brave fellows, Colonel, to stay as they did! But one I
'most wished had n't stayed.
Mortally wounded, he'd torn off his knapsack; and then, at
the end, he prayed --
Easy to see, by his hands that were clasped; and the dull,
dead fingers yet held
This little letter -- his wife's -- from the knapsack. A
pity those woods were shelled!"

Silent the orderly, watching with tears in his eyes as his
officer scanned
Four short pages of writing. "What's this, about 'Marthy
Virginia's hand'?"
Swift from his honeymoon he, the dead soldier, had gone
from his bride to the strife;
Never they met again, but she had written him, telling of
that new life,
Born in the daughter, that bound her still closer and
closer to him as his wife.
Laying her baby's hand down on the letter, around it she
traced a rude line:
"If you would kiss the baby," she wrote, "you must kiss
this outline of mine."

There was the shape of the hand on the page, with the
small, chubby fingers outspread.
"Marthy Virginia's hand, for her pa," -- so the words on
the little palm said.
Never a wink slept the colonel that night, for the
vengeance so blindly fulfilled.
Never again woke the old battle-glow when the bullets their
death-note shrilled.
Long ago ended the struggle, in union of brotherhood happily stilled;
Yet from that field of Antietam, in warning and token of
love's command,
See! there is lifted the hand of a baby -- Marthy Virginia's hand!





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