Skimming lightly, wheeling still, The swallows fly low Over the field in clouded days, The forest-field of Shiloh -- Over the field where April rain Solaced the parched ones stretched in pain Through the pause of night That followed the Sunday fight Around the church of Shiloh -- The church so lone, the log-built one, That echoed to many a parting groan And natural prayer Of dying foemen mingled there -- Foemen at morn, but friends at eve -- Fame or country least their care: (What like a bullet can undeceive!) But now they lie low, While over them the swallows skim, And all is hushed at Shiloh. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OUR GOOD PRESIDENT by PHOEBE CARY THE BOROUGH: LETTER 22. POOR OF THE BOROUGH. PETER GRIMES by GEORGE CRABBE THE FORCE OF LOVE by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES LATE LEAVES by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: ROBERT OF SICILY by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW STONEWALL JACKSON'S WAY by JOHN WILLIAMSON PALMER |