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Poem by Albery Allson Whitman Stonewall Jackson Defiant in the cannon's mouth, I see a hero of the South, Serene and tall; So like a stonewall in the fray He stands, that wond'ring legions say: "He is a wall." He heeded not the fierce onsets From bristling fields of bayonets; He heeded not The thunder-tread of warring steeds, But holds his men of daring deeds Right on the spot. And is it insanity? Nay, this is but the gravity Of that vast mind, That, on his Southland's altar wrought And forged the bolts of warrior thought Of thunder-kind. An eagle eye, a vulture's fight, A stroke leonine in might; The man was formed For that resolving, deep inert Which sprang stupendously alert, And, sometimes, stormed. And so, his mount to the charge, Or led the columns small or large, The victor rode; Till over danger's castle moat, And in the cannon's silenced throat, His charger trode. And so, with fierce far speed, or near To right and left and on the rear, His fury fell Upon the foe too much to meet. For Jackson's soul abhorred retreat, Except from hell. But comes the saddest at the last, As sad as life's ideal past— And, oh! how sad! That, in his pride, the Stonewall fell By hands of those he loved so well— The best he had. How sad that dark and cruel night Should fold her mantle on the sight Of those tried, true And valiant men, who followed where Their leader went, despising fear And darkness, too! But sometimes triumph is subline The most when on the brink of time, And his was so; A shady shore beyond he sees, And asks for rest beneath its trees, And it was so. And do you ask, can he whose sweat Hath clods of weary slave toil wet, The praises sing Of one who fought to forget the chain That manacles the human brain? Do such a thing? I answer, yes, if he who fought, Fought bravely and believed he ought. If that can be; If manhood in the mighty test Of mankind does its manliest Believingly. Then poet songs for him shall ring And he shall live while poets sing; And while he lives, And God forgives, The great peculiar martial star, In old Virginia's crown of war, Will be her Stonewall, proud and sad, The bravest that she ever had. Albery Allson Whitman Albery Allson Whitman's other poems: ![]() 1201 Views |
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