Phantoms of Gettysburg
Fields that echoed with the muskets' rattle;
Blood of Yanks and Rebs spilt in dire battle;
Now serene with murmurs of restless ghosts,
Of men who died among the frenzied hosts!
Are those the sighs of souls heard with each breeze,
As winds stir dancing leaves of ancient trees?
Do winter winds shrieking 'bout Round Top Hill,
Recall screams of men, their fate to fulfill?
Heard are moans of dying men, laurels won,
Or is it groans of pine boles 'neath sere sun?
Lincoln's speech yet echoes to honor they,
No matter the hue of cloth worn that day!
Should phantoms yet ask if they died in vain?
"Nay! Nay! Due to you this land rose again!"
Entry for Mark Massey's "War Sonnet" Contest
(6 January 2019)
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
