Sword and shield. (Clinton, Miss.) 1885-1888, 1885-03-07
TWO WAR POEMS

Among the most prolific writers of South.
ernwar poetry was John K. Thompson, who
for fifteen years before the momentousstrug-
gle that gave fresh poetic impulse TO his
pen, was editor of The Southern Literary
Messenger. Mr. Thompson's war songs
were all timely, and are earnest, polished,
and even in mer: but they hardly rise to
the level Of the best verses of Randall. Tim
rod and Ticknor. None of them, unless 1t
be the Burial Of Latane can with truth, be
called famous; but Ashby, The Battle Rain
bow and Stuart are specimens OF finished
verse immeasurably superior to the average
blood and thunder war song that we find
treasured in the collections. The Burial of
Latane is here given, not because it is dis
tinctly the best of Thompson's poems, but
because it is probably the most famous:
TIE BURIAL OF LATANE.
The combat ragged not long; but ours the day.
And through the hosts that compassed us around
Our little band rode proudly on its way.
Leaving one gallant spirit, glory crowned,
Unburied on the field he died t. gain
Single, of all his men, among the hostile slain!
One moment on the battles edge he stood.
Hope halo, like helmet, round his hair
The next beheld him dabbIed in his blood,
Prostrate in death; and yet in death how
fair
And thus he passed through the red gate Of
strife
From earthly crowns and palms to an eternal
life
A brother bore his body from the field.
And gave it into strangers hands who closed
His calm blue eyes, on earth forever sealed,
And tenderly the slender limbs composed;
Strangers, but sisters, who with Mary's love,
Sat by the open tomb, and weeping looked above
A little girl strewed roses on his bier.
Pale roses-not more stainless than his soul
Nor yet more fragment than his life sincere,
That blossomed with good actons-brief, but
whole
An aged matron with her faithful slave
Approached with revcrent steps the hero : lowly
grave
No man Of God might read the burial rite
Above the s'rebel''-thus declared the foe,
Who blanched before him in the deadly fight;
But woman 5 voice, in accents sOf and low,
Trembling with pity; touched with pathos, read
Over his halowed dust, the ritual for the dead!
..Tis sown In weakness; it is raised in power =
Softly the promise floated on the air,
And the sweet breathings of the sunset hour
Come back responsive to the meurDer's prayer.
Gently they laid him underneath the SD,
And left him with his fame. bis country and his
~ God
We should not weep for him, his deeds endure;
So young, so beautiful, SO brave-be died
As he would wish to die The past secure.
Whatever yer of sorrow may betide
These whl still linger by the stormy shore
Change cannot hurt him now, nor fortune reach
him more.
And when Virginia, leaning on her spear
Tictyir et vidud the conflict done.
Shall raise her mailed hand to wipe The tear
That starts, as she recalls each martyr SOM
No prouder memory her breast shall away
Than thine-the early lost, lamented Latane
Mr.. Harry L. Flash, who, unfortunately
for Southrn literature, has written little OF
late years, published some OF the most pop
ular poems of the war; but it must be ad-
mitted that his muse appears more at home
in scenes Of peace than in the stirring events
ofthe war His Stonewall Jackson and Zol-
likofer, though much admired and widely re-
printed, hardly reached the poetic standard
otWhat She Brought Me and Atthe Theatre.
His Zollikoffer is here gwen as best illus
trating that concise, suggestive, vet easy and
graceful expression for which Mr.. Flash is
noted:
ZOLLIKOFFER.