Miss Abagail Mannering
The sea of blue
marched down the lane-
the rows so prim and straight.
None aware that they'd meet their doom
in this war inspired by hate.
The troops plodded on,
stirring up the dust
as they followed the road's narrow bend...
oblivious that the coats they'd donned
were in desperate need of mend.
The tin cups clanked
and muskets gleamed in the sun..
Paranoid that they'd soon be flanked
after the battle they'd just won.
They heard the noise
of rifles fired.
The *thunks* of bullets in skin...
Most casualties were mearly boys
fighting against their kin.
The acrid smell of powder burnt
filled the nose and sky-
and many a boy 'neath dust now dwells
in the place they fell to die.
We remember now
many years since they have gone.
The legacy they did endow
ensures they'll linger on.
(written in my civil war class, April 20th. 1999)
[This message has been edited by Miss Abagail Mannering (edited 01-23-2000).]