Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Woman On The Field Of Battle by Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Where hath not woman stood,
Strong in affection's might?
A reed, upborne
By au o'ermaturing current!

Gentle and lovely form,
What didst thou here,
When the fierce battle storm
Bore down the spear?

Banner and shivered crest
Beside thee strown,
Tell that amidst the best
Thy work was done!

Low lies the stately head,
Earth bound the free:
How gave those haughty dead
A place to thee?

Slumberer! thine early bier
Friends should have crowned,
Many a flower and tear
Shedding around.

Soft voices, dear and young,
Mingling their swell,
Should o'er thy dust have sung
Earth's last farewell.

Sisters, above the grave
Of thy repose,
Should have bid violets wave
With the white rose.

Now must the trumpet's note
Savage and shrill,
For requiem o'er thee float,
Thou fair and still!

And the swift charger sweep,
In full career,
Trampling thy place of sleep--
Why camest thou here?

Why?--Ask the true heart why
Woman hath been
Ever, where brave men die,
Unshrinking seen?

Unto this harvest ground
Proud reapers came,
Some for that stirring sound,
A warrior's name;

Some for the stormy play,
And joy of strife,
And some to fling away
A weary life.

But thou, pale sleeper, thou,
With the slight frame,
And the rich locks, whose glow
Death cannot tame;

Only one thought, one power,
Thee could have led,
So through the tempest's hour
To lift thy head!

Only the true, the strong,
The love, whose trust
Woman's deep soul too long
Pours on the dust.

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