OH! the dew-wet grass of the meadow in North Carolina Through which Rebecca followed me wailing, wailing, One child in her arms, and three that ran along wailing, Lengthening out the farewell to me off to the war with the British, And then the long, hard years down to the day of Yorktown. And then my search for Rebecca, Finding her at last in Virginia, Two children dead in the meanwhile. We went by oxen to Tennessee, Thence after years to Illinois, At last to Spoon River. We cut the buffalo grass, We felled the forests, We built the school houses, built the bridges, Leveled the roads and tilled the fields Alone with poverty, scourges, death -- If Harry Wilmans who fought the Filipinos Is to have a flag on his grave Take it from mine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH FOR A SOLDIER by DAVID IGNATOW A CELEBRATION by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: AUX ITALIENS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON ETHELSTAN: RUNILDA'S CHANT by GEORGE DARLEY THE WILD HONEYSUCKLE by PHILIP FRENEAU UPON HIS DEPARTURE HENCE by ROBERT HERRICK BEETHOVEN'S THIRD SYMPHONY by RICHARD HOVEY TO AMARANTHA, THAT SHE WOULD DISHEVEL HER HAIR by RICHARD LOVELACE |