A Message For Janett Poem by Samuel Alfred Beadle

A Message For Janett



Far away where the raging sea goes,
In the islands of the sea,
There our brave and daring heroes
Fought the battles of the free;
From the hands of arrogant Spain
Struck the sword of tyranny,
On the plains of El Caney.


But o'er the halo of our glory
Falls the mem'ry of our brave,
Stalwart men, all maimed and gory,
Sleeping in a foreign grave,
Where the grim Spanish armament,
And her gallant men of war,
Threw death's missiles wide and far.


There among the dead and dying
Lay a victim of their rage,
By a Spanish block house lying,
Amid the battle's carnage.
He yields to death while glory weeps;
But conquers its agony,
And recks not of its misery.


Now his mind on fancy's pinion
Wings its flight to friends and home,
Takes its leave of war's dominion,
Flutters down the vista gloam;
Till again his friends and loved ones
Shout their welcome in his ear,
O'er his comrade's martial cheer.


But his end came nearer, nearer;
Yet he raised his manly head,
And in language somewhat clearer
Called his comrade near, and said,
'Comrade, if you should live it through
Tell them how we met the Don,
Fought for human rights and won;


'Strove to place our standard higher
On the ramparts of the free,
Defied the Spaniard's deadly fire
And died for humanity;
Tell them of our negro heroes,
Of the valiant black brigade,
And the gallant charge it made.


'You remember there's another,
Dearer far than all to me -
Comrade, don't forget my mother,
For she is all expectancy.
Tell her that I met death bravely,
With the red sod for a bed,
And 'Old Glory' over head.


'You will find her by the hearthstone
Near the northern Mexic coast -
Dreaming that I'm coming home,
And the Spaniard's cause is lost. -
'What answer shall you make to her?'
Tell her that she lost a son,
But the day was nobly won.


'Then you'll take a message for me
To Janett, across the main;
There she's bravely waiting for me,
But we'll never meet again
On that undulating landscape,
Rolling onward, copse and lea,
In their rustic purity.


'Where a laughing, rippling streamlet,
Playing with the golden sands,
Loiters by the peaceful hamlet,
Winds along the fallow lands,
Through a green and varied landscape,
There Janett awaits for me,
In a cottage near the sea.


'In a garden, sweetly laden
With the roses newly blown,
There the comely, gracious maiden
Stands before her cottage home;
Now she moves across the landscape
Through the copse and o'er the lea.
See! she comes to welcome me!


'You will know her by her lashes,
Fringing eyes as dark as jet;
And her curly raven tresses -
You can't miss my fair Janett,
With her beautiful curved neck,
And the rare angelic grace
Of her motion, form and face.'


Here his voice grew faint and broken,
But his face with rapture shone,
As he held aloft the token
Which he through the fight had borne;
'Twas our old and riven ensign,
That his clotted blood did blur -
This the message sent to her.

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