Olustee Pine

by john clare

In tintypes fade the grand march to final end,
To Olustee's hallowed field the long ranks wend-
The boys in blue languish a looming decoration day,
As soon the grey ranks fall in sands eternal stay.

Who shall recall the time of their demise?
Who will cradle their love with downcast eyes?
Curse Olustee! The day we marched into thy pines!
Be kind Oh stranger! Your darling once was mine.

And from the heart pine fires a wisp does arise,
Thunders deafen to peel back the trembling skies.
On dawns dream begins the battalions terrible charge,
Sickles poised the killer angels to reap a harvest large.

Then through the sulfur mists comes the conquering foe,
As brighter,brighter the warm hearth of home glows.
Into the arms of love one by one the soldiers are flung.
Bless Olustee! To darlings dear we have at last come!