The Shiloh Bloodbath.

The Orchard

For many years I had a dream,
To stand, within this place,
And stroll among the peach trees,
Spring sunlight on my face.
For it was here, that they did come,
The men, of blue and gray.
Their innocence soon shattered,
That fearsome April day.

At dawn the trees had blossom full,
Pure white spread all around.
Such peaceful place never was,
Before that gunshot sound
They say the blood did spatter high,
White blossom turned to red.
Then petals fell, floated down,
To carpet all the dead.

As now I stand upon this spot
I feel them, everywhere,
Petals kiss my weary head,
Their torment now I share.
They drift on by so silently,
Yet each of them I hear.
For they do now bear witness,
Each petal sheds a tear.

Tread softly now, in carpet pale,
Hear men who passed away.
They pray for their dear mother,
And wife, so far away.
I came here to remember them,
To see this place of death
Not dreaming for a minute
That I would feel their breath.

The tears well up within my eyes,
My heart beats like a drum,
I wonder why I came here,
This field of deadly gun.
Then came a voice, to settle me,
Said I must leave this place.
"Remember Sir, the orchard,
And tears that burn your face."