Chancellorsville Poems | Examples


Letter Home

I'm growing weary marching on this road to Chancellorsville. It's hard not knowing what awaits as I top the next hill. Your picture in a locket, I keep next to my heart. It helps me not to feel alone while we are apart. I do not know what will come from this awful war, but I believe in the causes that we're fighting for. I think of you both day and night, I pray God keeps me strong. And when this war has ended, I'll find my way back home.
Today has left me hungry, depleted of supplies. Although my body's breaking down, I'm thankful I'm alive. I lay here empty, shivering, my body filled with pain. I cannot wait until the day I see your face again. Many now have fallen, but I must persevere, as when this war is ended, I'm coming home my dear. Until that day's upon us and you are in my sight, I hold to our undying love to see me through the nights. Please know my dear I love you whatever fate may hold. You're always in my heart and forever in my soul.
Form: Narrative

Leaving the War Behind

Leaving the War Behind
for Elihu Burritt, peacemaker

The cannon thundered in the South,
    	And with the sound
     	The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 
- H. W. Longfellow,  “Christmas Bells”

1863, your old friend Longfellow almost 
despairing. What a year! The Union 
torn. Chancellorsville. War’s ravenous mouth. 
And then came Vicksburg, Gettysburg. 
The whole land lay in a bloody drouth,
the cannon thundered in the South,

and Elihu, you sailed away. For years 
you let the ink flow like a sea 
to float the cause of Peace. Yet you found 
no peace at home. Was it a personal 
surrender, to be England-bound?
And with the sound
     
of waves and seabirds, did you leave 
behind the burden of a homeland 
north to south a battleground?
Could a foreign landscape comfort 
you? Or did war images confound – 
the carols drowned

in military march-time in your head? 
As summer waned, the loss of Chickamauga. 
Brother killing brother in a marshy fen. 
Elihu, did you never quite give up 
the distant hope – oh where, and when? – 
of peace on earth, good-will to men?
Form: Verse


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