Can you still hear the shouting,
Out there, in the darkened night?
Soldiers still, cry out, in their pain,
Where cannonballs, took deadly flight.


The battles are now long over,
But ghosts, oh, they still remain.
Because of all, the blood that flowed,
We shall never again, be the same.


The wounded and the dying,
Lay in murky shadows, still.
So many lives were utterly shattered,
Upon those historic fields and hills.


Whether Yankee, or a Rebel,
Brother, a friend or foe.
It was simply, lines of states,
That decided, where they go.


A many mother's heart cried out,
In her anger and her grief.
While a widow told her younguns‘,
"Your Pa has gone to sleep."


The horrors of the battles,
The crimson rivers that flowed,
Swept away so many lives,
as war was played out and told.


The North and South are forever scarred,
With graves and trenches, dug.
The trees are forever wounded,
Bearing bullet holes and slugs.


A reminder of, the history past,
And all that went so wrong,
Can only help to educate,
And make us very strong.


Pray never again to see,
Such horrors at our own front door.
But never can we ever forget,
America's, Civil War!



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Starward's picture

This beautiful poem is as eloquent as Michael Shraa's great novel on Gettysburg!