Antebellum

I walk the lane 'neath giant oaks, vast canopies of green, and view the mansion at path's end, a sight I've never seen. My mind begins to picture those precious days of old, the owner of this grand house with history yet foretold. Of Southern Belles in ball gowns, young men in dapper dress, music of the harpsichord as folks poseur their best. Dancing, singing, merriment revere lives without care as servants carry laden trays of fancy food and fare. But all the glories of this time were soon to be forgot with civil war uprisings, and horrors that men wrought. Land was scourged, mansions burned, or plundered of their ware, soldiers stripped the wealth from them and pillaged without care. "The black man needs his freedom," was the battle cry, and thousands chose to take a side for which they'd surely die. Brother fought 'gainst brother, father against son, I wonder if they felt for naught when the war was done. Now standing 'neath the foliage at this mansion tall and grand, I question, "Was it worth it, for them to take a stand?" Guess we'll never know the answer, today it seems too late, but let us long remember what happens when men hate.