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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=373842" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>John Wasson</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=373842" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Oh! the dew-wet grass of the meadow in North Carolina<br>Through which Rebecca followed me wailing, wailing,<br>One child in her arms, and three that ran along wailing,<br>Lengthening out the farewell to me off to the war with the British,<br>And then the long, hard years down to the day of Yorktown.<br>And then my search for Rebecca,<br>Finding her at last in Virginia,<br>Two children dead in the meanwhile.<br>We went by oxen to Tennessee,<br>Thence after years to Illinois,<br>At last to Spoon River.<br>We cut the buffalo grass,<br>We felled the forests,<br>We built the school houses, built the bridges,<br>Leveled the roads and tilled the fields<br>Alone with poverty, scourges, death-<br>If Harry Wilmans who fought the Filipinos<br>Is to have a flag on his grave<br>Take it from mine!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Edgar+Lee+Masters">Edgar Lee Masters</a></strong></div>