Yet here I am beneath this hoary tree
And ruminate upon the recent past—
If such events again should hap to be—
The ruins round their gloomy bodings cast.
VI
But still I sit amidst these scenes of death
Which call to mind that dire December day,
When Fate unkindly blew his blighting breath,
Reducing homes to dust, and men to clay.
VII
And question thus: “Was there no law amiss?
Had no officials power to prevent
A devastation, dark and drear, as this?
Was Richmond’s loss naught but an accident?”
VIII
And in my breast a rising hate I feel
For man-made Laws which oft protect the High
And leave the Low their grievous wounds to heal
And bear their load of sorrow till they die.
IX
A sense of sadness passes through my soul,
An earthly grief akin to human-kind,
But ere this sorrow sad doth reach its goal
Celestial musings fill my troubled mind.