THE colonel rode by his picket-line In the pleasant morning sun, That glanced from him far off to shine On the crouching rebel picket's gun. From his command the captain strode Out with a grave salute, And talked with the colonel as he rode: -- The picket levelled his piece to shoot. The colonel rode and the captain walked, -- The arm of the picket tired; Their faces almost touched as they talked, And, swerved from his aim, the picket fired, The captain fell at the horse's feet, Wounded and hurt to death, Calling upon a name that was sweet As God is good, with his dying breath. And the colonel that leaped from his horse and knelt To close the eyes so dim, A high remorse for God's mercy felt, Knowing the shot was meant for him. And he whispered, prayer-like, under his breath, The name of his own young wife: For Love, that had made his friend's peace with Death, Alone could make his with life. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PURSUIT OF THE WORD by ROBERT FROST I WANT TO LIVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON APPLES OF HESPERIDES by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: AMOS SIBLEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE SEALS IN PENOBSCOT BAY by KAREN SWENSON |