I sat by the window in the somber night, When all was still, still as death itself. I tell you there was no sound, but my heart Pulsated to the march of feet that beat Like deadly waves upon the ground. I could not catch the slightest breath, I could hear naught save a small frog's croak, Yet wave after wave rolled upon my soul, Stooped there, piteous, trembling, Rolled and broke. Somewhere in the dead of night were Marching feet of men, men not yet free From a mother's care; somewhere in that clustering Dark, were others, listening even as I, Offering prayer. Dear God, you who hear the sounds withheld From me, and love the crouched and sleepless Mothers, make us to hear and see; give us To walk unharmed in light and dark, make us keepers Of our brothers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BORDER AFFAIR by CHARLES BADGER CLARK JR. ONLY A WOMAN by DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK THE LITTLE BEACH BIRD by RICHARD HENRY DANA (1787-1879) THE FOUNDERS OF OHIO by WILLIAM HENRY VENABLE LYNCHED by FRANK ANKENBRAND JR. A VALEDICTION by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE WERE-WOLVES by WILLIAM WILFRED CAMPBELL MARI MAGNO; OR TALES ON BOARD: THE MATE'S STORY by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH |