Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet in the Battlefield to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
The camp was still as midnight came, with the campfires burning low,
And every soldier lay awake with the thoughts he did not show.
One wrote a letter to his wife, another to his son,
And another watched the stars and prayed for the battle to be done.
A boy of seventeen sat down beside a sergeant grey,
And asked him, are you frightened? and the sergeant said, each day.
He said, the brave are not the ones who never feel the dread,
But the ones who rise and march again with the trembling in their tread.
They shared a cup of bitter tea and watched the eastern sky,
And the boy fell into sleep beneath the stars that passed on by.
At dawn the bugle called them up, and the boy stood straight and tall,
For he had learned in one long night the courage of them all.
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Commentary
The hours before a battle are long and quiet. This longer poem follows a boy and an old sergeant through one such night and shows how courage is passed from one person to another.
“The camp was still as midnight came,” and “every soldier lay awake with the thoughts he did not show.” One writes “a letter to his wife, another to his son,” and another prays “for the battle to be done.” “A boy of seventeen sat down beside a sergeant grey” and asks, “are you frightened?”
The sergeant answers, “the brave are not the ones who never feel the dread, but the ones who rise and march again with the trembling in their tread.” They share “a cup of bitter tea,” and “the boy fell into sleep.” At dawn he stands “straight and tall,” having “learned in one long night the courage of them all.”