Field of Death

A Poem By Elizabeth // 5/25/2007

By the red hue
That drenched the plain
The cannons rumbled
The bullets rained

The moaning of men
Silenced by death
Filled all the ears
Of those in lament

Men that of rank
And of honor fell
Glory and praise
Bestowed on all

All advancing men
In the dark field
Climbed up steady
Toward the fateful hill

Clothed by cannon
And bullet fog
The men crawled safely
Until one flawed

The bullet ceased
The cannons slowed
The noise dismissed
The sighting fell

Upon the men
Who laid so still
Then charged to run
And headlong fell

Gray figures lay
Noiseless in death
Cold and silent
Pale and lifeless

Cavalries in line
Charged in the scene
Running down ranks
Passing orderly means

In the last third
Days of sorrow
The blue lines of men
Broke and faltered

Picket's fatal charge
Swept by and killed
Many a men
In the lifeless field

Defeated men
Distraught and fled
Behind their leader
In agony and dread

Triumphant north
Called out in joy
And cheered their leader
General George Meade



Beautifully written!! WoWoWoW! I love it! 0.0 I wish I could write like that. It's sad, but beautiful, at the same time, and lovely style/rhyming - excellent job!!

Edith | Mon, 06/18/2007


wooooooooooooow!that poem is almost as good as poems by alfred, lord tennyson!

Bernadette | Fri, 04/25/2008


wooooooooooooow!that poem is almost as good as poems by alfred, lord tennyson!I forgot to say I love you!

Bernadette | Fri, 04/25/2008


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