Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE SPUR OF MONMOUTH, by HENRY MORFORD Poet's Biography First Line: Twas a little brass half-circlet Last Line: My have clasped george washington's heel. Subject(s): Monmouth, Battle Of (1778) | ||||||||
'Twas a little brass half-circlet, Deep gnawed by rust and stain, That the farmer's urchin brought me, Ploughed up in Old Monmouth's plain; On that spot where the hot June sunshine Once a fire more deadly knew, And a bloodier color reddened Where the red June roses blew, Where the moon of the early harvest Looked down through the shimmering leaves, And saw where the reaper of battle Had gathered his human sheaves: Old Monmouth, so touched with glory, So tinted with burning shame, As Washington's pride we remember, Or Lee's long-tarnished name. 'Twas a little brass half-circlet; And knocking the rust away, And clearing the ends and the middle From their burial shroud of clay, I saw, through the damp of ages, And the thick disfiguring grime, The buckle-heads and the rowel Of a spur of the olden time. And I said, "What gallant horseman, Who revels and rides no more, Perhaps twenty years back or fifty, On his heel that weapon wore? Was he riding away to his bridal When the leather snapped in twain? Was he thrown, and dragged by the stirrup, With the rough stones crushing his brain?" Then I thought of the Revolution, Whose tide still onward rolls; Of the free and the fearless riders, Of the "times that tried men's souls," What if, in the day of battle That raged and rioted here, It had dropped from the foot of a soldier, As he rode in his mad career? What if it had ridden with Forman, When he leaped through the open door, With the British dragoon behind him In his race o'er the granary floor? What if -- but the brain grows dizzy With the thoughts of the rusted spur, What if it had fled with Clinton Or charged with Aaron Burr? But bravely the farmer's urchin Had been scraping the rust away; And, cleaned from the soil that swathed it, the spur before me lay. Here are holes in the outer circle; No common heel it has known, For each space, I see by the setting, Once held some precious stone. And here, not far from the buckle -- Do my eyes deceive their sight? Two letters are here engraven, That initial a hero's might -- "G. W." Saints of Heaven! Can such things in our lives occur? Do I grasp such a priceless treasure? Was this George Washington's spur? Did the brave old Pater Patriae Wear that spur, like a belted knight, -- Wear it, through gain and disaster, From Cambridge to Monmouth fight? Did it press his steed in hot anger On Long Island's day of pain? Did it drive him at terrible Princeton 'Tween two streams of leaden rain? And here did the buckles loosen, And no eye look down to see, When he rode to blast with the lightning The defiant eyes of Lee? Did it fall, unfelt and unheeded, When that fight of despair was won, And Clinton, worn and discouraged, Crept away at the set of the sun? The lips have long been silent That could send an answer back, And the spur, all broken and rusted Has forgotten its rider's track; I only know that the pulses Leap hot and the senses reel, When I think that the spur of Monmouth My have clasped George Washington's heel. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOLLY PITCHER [JUNE 28, 1778] by KATE BROWNLEE SHERWOOD MOLLY MAGUIRE AT MONMOUTH by WILLIAM COLLINS (1875-) THE BATTLE OF MONMOUTH by THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH THE BATTLE OF MONMOUTH by R. H. AT TENNENT CHURCH by CLINTON SCOLLARD THE BATTLE OF MONMOUTH by SARA KING WILEY A WRECK IN SHREWSBURY INLET by HENRY MORFORD LAKE LEMAN AND CHILLON by HENRY MORFORD THE BROWN-EYED GIRLS OF JERSEY by HENRY MORFORD THE DEATH OF TELL by HENRY MORFORD THE WRECKER'S OATH ON BARNEGAT by HENRY MORFORD A THOUGHT SUGGESTED BY A VIEW, OF SADDLEBACK IN CUMBERLAND by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |
|