</>The General stood looking in the mirror <br />Perfectly attired, Cap a Pied. <br />He turned to me and said <br />'We must not delay this, Mister Marshall. <br />This bitter cup that fate has handed me' <br />I handed him his sword in silence. <br />We'd be fighting in the hills <br />Were it up to me, <br />but even I knew that our men <br />were starving, Surrounded, <br />there could be no victory. <br /> <br />Traveler was mounted in an instant <br />Few looked finer on a horse than <br />Our Robert Lee. <br />Under flag of truce we rode <br />to the McLean House, <br />there to await the modern Ulysses. <br /> <br />Grant rode up dressed in a Sergent's uniform, <br />mud splattered, <br />His shoulder straps the only hint <br />of rank. <br />He looked more like the man <br />who had been beaten <br />Than General Lee who had to play that part. <br />He took Lee's white gloved hand, offered in greeting <br />both men's faces etched with suffering, I saw. <br />They reminisced about their other meeting, <br />when both served Scott in the Mexican War. <br />Then General Lee asked Grant <br />to state terms of surrender. <br />They sat down and, in short order, <br />ended the unpleasantness of war. <br /> <br />The Victor was generous to the Vanquished: <br />No Rebel would be tried, or lose their home. <br />The men permitted to retain their side arms <br />Rations fed to men of skin and bone. <br />We'd Stack the drums and cannon in the field <br />Give our parole despite our internal pain <br />There were troops still in the field but it was over <br />April Ninth, a dark day without rain.<br /><br />John F. McCullagh<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-dark-day-without-rain/
