The Pen and the Sword #2


This poem was suggested to us by reader George Hill who found it at the Music and Poetry of the War Between the States site.

THE SWORD OF ROBERT LEE
by Abram Joseph Ryan (1839-1894)

Forth from its scabbard, pure and bright,
Flashed the sword of Lee!
Far in the front of the deadly fight,
High o'er the brave in the cause of Right
Its stainless sheen, like a beacon light,
Led us to Victory!

Out of its scabbard, where, full long,
It slumbered peacefully,
Roused from its rest by the battle's song,
Shielding the feeble, smiting the strong,
Guarding the right, avenging the wrong,
Gleamed the sword of Lee!

Forth from its scabbard, high in the air
Beneath Virginia's sky--
And theyyy who saw it gleaming there,

And knew who bore it, knelt to swear
That where that sword led they would dare
To follow--and to die!

Out of its scabbard! Never hand
Waved sword from stain as free,
Nor purer sword led braver band,
Nor braver bled for a brighter land,
Nor brighter land had a cause so grand,
Nor cause a chief like Lee!

Forth from its scabbard! How we prayed
That sword might victor be;
And when our triumph was delayed,
And many a heart grew sore afraid,
We still hoped on while gleamed the blade
Of noble Robert Lee!

Forth from its scabbard all in vain
Bright flashed the sword of Lee;

'Tis shrouded now in its sheath again,
It sleeps the sleep of our noble slain,
Defeated, yet without stain,
Proudly and peacefully!


This original piece comes from K. Campbell.

THE ELDER KNIGHT'S LAMENT

Knights in colors, loyal to the King,
We charged bravely across the field,
In battle to prove our fealty.
By an oath our fate was sealed.

Dragons roamed in the days of our youth.
Fire-breathing and fierce, they filled us with fear.
Yet, we honored their ferocity.
Adventure was held in our hearts dear.

To protect and serve our home and our liege,
The noblest cause for a man.
We proudly drew blades and stood against
Each foe that threatened our land.

Memories soothe us as we grow old,
Less able to serve our king.
Now swords and shields hang upon the wall.
Ah, but our past was a glorious thing!


IVAN IRONFOOT WAXES SENTIMENTAL
By K. Campbell

I is a little man.
I has a little sword.
Knowing how to use it.
Is its own reward.

I calls my sword Carlo.
He seems to like that name.
He comes forth when I calls him
And never does complain.

I loves my little sword.
Oh yes, I surely do.
My little sword stays with me.
I know he loves me too.

He pokes at the monsters.
He cuts at my foes.
Carlo does my bidding
Everywhere I goes.

Carlo is good at choppingt
And hacking nasty things
And when I gets sleepy
A lullaby he sings.

I is a little man.
I has a little sword.
Knowing how to use it.
Is its own reward.



The following two poems were sent to us by a fencer named S. Hopkins. The first is unashamedly romantic. The second is grittier but still retains romantic use of language. I hope we will see more of S. Hopkins's work in the future. --Ed.

UNTITLED

YOU ASKED ME HOW I CAME BY THIS
THIS SOLID STERLING SILVER BLADE
SO I BENT YOU BACK AND WITH A KISS
TAUGHT YOU JUST HOW IT WAS MADE,
WITH PASSION, REASONLESS AND NEVER
A THOUGHT OF WHAT WAS RIGHT OR WRONG
IN MY ARMS YOU SAW I WAS CLEVER
AND JUST AS WEAK AS THE BLADE IS STRONG
WHEN I WITHDREW MY LIPS FROM YOURS
YOUR FEVER ROSE TOWARDS MY EARS
YOU ASKED THAT I MIGHT MAKE A SWORD
TO DEFEND YOU FROM YOUR FEARS,
MY FINGERS TRACED ALONG YOUR SKIN
AND YOUR MOANS MOST EMPHASIZED
AS I TOLD YOU HOW AND WHEN
I WOULD MAKE IT BEFORE YOUR EYES,
AND UP YOU JUMPED PULLING MY HAND
"BEGIN IT NOW UNDER THIS MOON!"
I SAID,"NO LOVE, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND
WHAT YOU WANT IS COMING SOON",
I SEIZED UPON YOUR SHOCK AND PAUSE
AT MY REJECTING YOUR REQUEST
WITH MY LOVE AND THE LUST IT DRAWS
I PULLED YOU BACK INTO OUR BED,
OUR HEARTS IN POUNDING RYTHM MADE
THE PERFECT TIME FOR THE PERFECT DANCE
AND WHEN YOU SLEPT I LEFT THE BLADE
FOR YOUR FEARS THAT BID THIS CHANCE.

DARK STREET

HERE YOU ARE AT DARK STREET:
DOESN'T MATTER IF YOU CAME HERE
BY YOUR DESIGN OR ANOTHERS.
HERE YOU ARE ON DARK STREET:
IT LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE ALONE
BECAUSE NO ONE WANTS TO COME DOWN HERE
NOT EVEN THE TOUGH GUYS
BUT,
HERE YOU ARE ON DARK STREET:
YOU HEAR SHUFFLING AND GLASS BREAKING IN THE SHADOWS
AND SMELL PISS AND OLD BEER
HERE YOU ARE ON DARK STREET:
WALKING THRU THE REFUSE OF ALL THE SHATTERED SOULS
WHO NAVIGATE BY VIOLENCE
HERE YOU ARE ON DARK STREET:
BUT YOU WALK LIKE A GIANT WALKING THRU HIS OWN HOUSE
NO FEAR IN YOUR HEART
BECAUSE,
HERE YOU ARE ON DARK STREET:
AND ALL THE RESIDENTS HERE
KNOW THAT SWORD HOOKED ON YOUR BELT
AIN'T SOME RUSTY OLD FISH KNIFE.
RIGHT HERE ON DARK STREET:
YOU TAUGHT YOURSELF HOW TO USE THAT BLADE
AND EVERYBODY KNOWS IT.

--S.HOPKINS


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