Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, DAISY SWAIN, THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH; A TALE OF THE REBELLION: 3, by JOHN M. DAGNALL



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

DAISY SWAIN, THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH; A TALE OF THE REBELLION: 3, by                    
First Line: Upon the balmy breeze of that same morning
Last Line: * * *
Subject(s): American Civil War; Beauty; Death; Love; Soldiers; United States - History; Women; Dead, The


Reuben's Alarm at the Sound of Battle -- Daisy's Absence from the
Cot -- Her Return Home with the Wounded Soldier

Upon the balmy breeze of that same morning
Reuben, the peasant, from his smiling cot,
Heard the battle's horrid din resound,
And saw, afar, thick, sulphurous smoke dimly
Rear in black wreaths to'ards the glaring sun.
'Twas but an hour before the valley rang
With war's alarm, that in the morning ray, he
O'er his neat fields trod; nor feared to meet
Friend or enemy of the warring bands.
Both were foes to him.

For when the roar of
Booming cannon echoed on his startled ear,
He thought that ere the evening came, he'd look
Upon his burning cot and wander round
A homeless man. But twilight came. Long since
The battle's warlike blasts had died away;
And glad he was to find his fields were still
Adorned with waving grain.

But when he saw
His beloved child was not at home to cheer
Him with her pleasing smile, and bless him at
The evening board, a poignant pang went straight
To his heart, that some mishap his daughter
Had befallen.

For no tidings of her had
Arrived, since, in the gleam of morning's sunshine,
Her father's cot she quit, to saunter through
Her native vale; and blithe and jocund wind
Amid its green retreats; joyously scent
The woodbine wild, and quaff the balmy air;
And to let the zephyr of fragrant meads
Mellow in deeper tints her beamy face.

But as she gayly tripp'd with fawn-like steps,
Through green paths, observing with enraptured eye,
The varied landscape o'er -- her soul's delight --
And breathing sylvan sweets with spirits gay,
War's infernal gong through the surrounding hills,
Reverbrated [sic] loud and pierced her ears.
The dread shocks her heart's blood stagnated. Fear
Forced its livid pallor o'er her roseate cheeks,
Which marred awhile the lustre of their bloom.
But the rose ne'er drooped. The shock was but
A passing gust, which chilled awhile her warm blood,
As she soon revived and glowed again in
All her fullness of sweet budding charms.

* * *

At length the din of battle paused upon
Her ears. Twilight shadows round her gathered;
And setting sun-beams faintly gleamed upon
A rolling cloud, whose ruffled crest, bright plumed
With crimson tints, passed o'er her. Thus forewarned
Of night approaching the shadowy rock,
On which she sat, up she quickly rose, and
Down through the hillside's winding paths she ran
Towards the cot.

Scarce had she neared a glade,
Ere she heard, upon the evening wind, screams
Of woe. Bewildered quite, she quickly turned
Around and gazed about, above, below;
Peeped through the murky glare of eve, but nothing
Saw of life. Then she wondered whence the sound
Arose, and what it could have been: listen'd
Like a hare startled by game-dogs on the scent:
Still, all was silent round, save the rustling
Of leaves, the barking of tree-toads, whimp'ring
Of bats, and the incessant buzz of insects,
Holding their nocturnal jubilees.

So, she fancied that the wail she heard was
Perhaps a catbird's woful [sic] mew, and hasten'd
On again along her woodland way. But ere
Her nimble feet had measured paces few,
The groan again, more agonizing still,
Burst on her ears. Appalled at the sound, she shrank,
Like the tendrils of a fragile flower
In a chill autumnal gust of wind, still.
Soon her doubting fears were gone; as, she knew
Full well that such a sad lament could only
From a human soul distressed issue.

Then, soon,
Compassion moved her. Through a willow copse
She hied, slow pacing cautiously, and reached
The margin of the stream where lay half dead,
The wounded soldier. Soon the tender fair one
Tremblingly bent o'er him and closely scann'd
Him with her pity-gleaming eyes. She saw
The light of life still flickered in his heart;
But wav'ring on the balance side of death
Whose shadow glimly danced upon his features,
Which in their livid aspect seemed to her
So beautiful, so mild. Then, with mute surprise,
She viewed his anguished mien, and wound all bare:
And dropt in cleansing tears, the limpid chlorine
Of her soul, upon his bleeding scar.
A transitory smart he felt. He muttered
"Oh!" and casting up his glassy eyes, he saw,
Low bending o'er him, so grateful in the gloom,
And all compassionate, the maiden fair in
White robe meekly clad.

"O Heavenly Father!
What angel from thy throne of glory hath
Fled, to chant the sad requiem o'er my cold clay?"
He cried. "One whom a ruling Providence
Hath hither sent, the friendless to befriend,
The helpless to save," she cried: saying which,
She brushed the matted locks back from his brow.
Then, she from her side a napkin took,
Saturated o'er with dew, and with it laved
His pallid brow; his parched lips moistened; plucked
A plantain leaf which on the streamlet's margin
Grew, and with its cooling texture improvised
A bandage for his wound; then tied it with
A ringlet of her auburn hair.

Meanwhile,
She made his prospects of recovery bright;
Told him, that not far from thence safe, nestled
In a grove, he would within her father's cot
A refuge find. This cheering hope his soul
Elated. Forthwith his glad heart urged his hand
To be extended to the gentle maid.
She took it kindly in her own and raised,
With all the strength her fragile structure had,
Him from the blood-stained ground. Faltering,
He leaned his right arm on her shoulder. Halting
At alternate steps to breathe. Well she bore
The burden of his weight, without a murmur,
With maidenly resolution all the way
Thro' thicket paths, 'cross glades; guided only
By the light which faintly glimmer'd from the cot.

Then, soon before its wicket gate they stood.
Quick the maiden pushed it open; as quick
Upon its thongs elastic back it swung,
And grated harshly on the latch. The pointer
Barked and quickly scented the stranger; while
The father to his feet started up, grasped
His gun, and to the door ran just as she knocked.
The gentle tap he knew came from his daughter.
Quick the door flew back, creaking on its hinges,
Upon the threshold stood the anxious father,
With extended arms to clasp his daughter;
But back a pace he bounded, as his eyes
In started sockets stared upon his child,
All fagged, all faint, with the feeble soldier.

Soon the mute appeal of Athol's wound went
To the parents' hearts. Warm commiseration
Thawed from out their breasts the icy chill of fear,
As they soon placed him on a mattress near
Some hick'ry faggots blazing, a helpless,
But a welcome guest beneath their roof.

* * *





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