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.