Poems (Douglas)/The Deserter

by Sarah Parker Douglas

The Deserter.

With a heart with anguish rending,
 Eyes bedimm'd with tears of grief,
Hurried steps a youth was bending
 To the chambers of his chief.
Cap in hand, he stood before him,
 Told with sad and faltering breath,
How the widowed one who bore him
 Languished on the bed of death.

Earnestly the stricken-hearted
 Sued for leave to see her die;
But that sad, sad hope departed
 With the man of power's reply:
"Nay," he answer'd to his pleading—
 For his grief had desperate grown—
"Nay, you leave not;" and, unheeding,
 Turned and left the youth alone.

Then, with bosom proudly swelling,
 Burning cheek, and lip compress'd,
The boy soldier left the dwelling
 With a purpose in his breast.
"Wretch, to sympathy a stranger,
 Did you deem my woes untrue?
Welcome death, and welcome danger,
 Mother, when I've knelt by you!"

Gloriously broke in the morrow,
 For 'twas summer, gladsome time,
As the way-worn child of sorrow
 Journeyed on through nature's prime,
By the mountain wild and hoary,
 Where no beaten track was seen,
On through glens, in summer glory
 Richly, beautifully green.

What to him the feathereds' singing?
 What to him all nature's mirth—
Sunbeams through the foliage flinging
 Spangles on the mossy earth—
As with sobs of bitter anguish
 On the turf he sank to rest?
Danger nigh, to sleep he'd languish,
 Faint and weary, and oppress'd.

To the shelter of a willow
 The exhausted wand'rer crept;
Tears bedew'd his grassy pillow,
 But at length, o'ercome, he slept:
Slept and dream'd—oh, glad that dreaming!
 Present woes were far apart,
Where the golden sun was streaming
 Did he roam in glee of heart.

Now the radiant hills ascending
 With young playmates, as of yore,
Peals of merry laughter blending
 With the gushing mill-stream's roar;
Then to home, with book before him,
 Seated by his mother's side,
Did his visions bright restore him,
 Where he met her glance of pride.

Woe was from his bosom banish'd,
 Joys were his so long unknown;
But, alas! the vision vanish'd—
 Glitt'ring arms around him shone.
Back to punishment they led him,
 Back to duty and disgrace.
From that hour hope's last rays fled him,
 Ne'er a smile illumed his face;

She, his mother, had departed,
 Her last cherish'd wish denied,
To behold her noble-hearted,
 Clasp and bless him ere she died.

'Twas the man whose lifted station
 O'er his fellows gave him power,
Wrought that young heart's desolation,
 Blasted every bosom flower.
Thus was life made dark and dreary
 By the heartless and unkind:
But no longer now the weary
 Battles with rude waves and wind.