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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE HARTLEY CALAMITY, by JOSEPH SKIPSEY Poet's Biography First Line: The hartley men are noble, and Last Line: And the last dread trumpet rung. Subject(s): Death; Graves; Hartley Colliery Disaster (1862); Mines And Miners; Dead, The; Tombs; Tombstones | |||
The Hartley men are noble, and Ye'll hear a tale of woe; I'll tell the doom of the Hartley men — The year of Sixty-two. 'Twas on a Thursday morning, on The first month of the year, When there befell the thing that well May rend the heart to hear. Ere chanticleer with music rare Awakes the old homestead, The Hartley men are up and off To earn their daily bread. On, on they toil; with heat they broil, And streams of sweat still glue The stour unto their skins, till they Are black as the coal they hew. Now to and fro the putters go, The waggons to and fro, And clang on clang of wheel and hoof Ring in the mine below. The din and strife of human life Awake in "wall" and "board," When, lo! a shock is felt which makes Each human heart-beat heard. Each bosom thuds, as each his duds snatches and away, And to the distant shaft he flees With all the speed he may. Each, all, they flee — by two — by three They seek the shaft, they seek An answer in each other's face, To what they may not speak. "Are we entombed?" they seem to ask, For the shaft is closed, and no Escape have they to God's bright day From out the night below. So stand in pain the Hartley men, And swiftly o'er them comes The memory of home, nay, all That links us to our homes. Despair at length renews their strength, And they the shaft must clear, And soon the sound of mall and pick, Half drowns the voice of fear. And hark! to the blow of the mall below Do sounds above reply? Hurra, hurra, for the Hartley men, For now their rescue's nigh. Their rescue nigh? The sounds of joy And hope have ceased, and ere A breath is drawn a rumble's heard Drives them back to despair. Together, now behold them bow; Their burden'd souls unload In cries that never rise in vain Unto the living God. Whilst yet they kneel, again they feel Their strength renew'd — again The swing and the ring of the mall attest The might of the Hartley men. And hark! to the blow of the mall below Do sounds above reply? Hurra, hurra, for the Hartley men, For now their rescue's nigh. But lo! yon light, erewhile so bright, No longer lights the scene; A cloud of mist yon light hath kiss'd, And shorn it of its sheen. A cloud of mist yon light hath kiss'd And see! along must crawl, Till one by one the lights are smote, And darkness covers all. "O, father, till the shaft is cleared, Close beside me keep; My eye-lids are together glued, And I — and I — must sleep." "Sleep, darling, sleep, and I will keep Close by — heigh-ho!" — To keep Himself awake the father strives — But he too must sleep. "O, brother, till the shaft is cleared, Close beside me keep; My eye-lids are together glued, And I — and I — must sleep." "Sleep, brother, sleep, and I will keep Close by — heigh-ho!" — To keep Himself awake the brother strives — But he too must sleep. "O, mother dear! wert thou near Whilst sleep" — The orphan slept; And all night long by the black pit-heap The mother a dumb watch kept. And fathers, and mothers, and sisters, and brothers The lover and the new-made bride A vigil kept for those who slept, From eve to morning tide. They slept — still sleep — in silence dread, Two hundred old and young, To awake when heaven and earth have sped And the last dread trumpet rung. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SURVIVOR AMONG GRAVES by RANDALL JARRELL SUBJECTED EARTH by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE GRAVE OF MRS. HEMANS by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER THOSE GRAVES IN ROME by LARRY LEVIS NOT TO BE DWELLED ON by HEATHER MCHUGH ONE LAST DRAW OF THE PIPE by PAUL MULDOON |
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