Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By William DeanHowells702 The Two Wives
T
In the pleasant morning sun,
That glanced from him far off to shine
On the crouching rebel picket’s gun.
Out with a grave salute,
And talked with the colonel as he rode:—
The picket levelled his piece to shoot.
The arm of the picket tired;
Their faces almost touched as they talked,
And, swerved from his aim, the picket fired.
Wounded and hurt to death,
Calling upon a name that was sweet
As God is good, with his dying breath.
To close the eyes so dim,
A high remorse for God’s mercy felt,
Knowing the shot was meant for him.
The name of his own young wife:
For Love, that had made his friend’s peace with Death,
Alone could make his with life.