Moonlight on Edisto Beach

This poem was written by Ellen Murray, a co-founder of the Penn School on St. Helena Island in South Carolina. The poem was originally published in the National Anti-Slavery Standard on July 18, 1863.

The moon is slightly past the full,
And rises from the sea,
Blushing and weeping for the grace
Of her past royalty.

The seashells glitter in her light,
As jewels cast aside
By some rich Eastern caravan
That in the desert died.

There's not a cloud in all the sky
To darken on the sea;
The silver foam runs up the sand
And greets it whisperingly.

It cannot be ‘neath such a sky,
Such heaven of repose,
That cannon-smoke hangs heavily
Where brothers met as foes.

It cannot be this silver light
Is shining just as fair
On trampled field, and dying men,
On shriek and wail and prayer.

Or that, on such a holy night,
Men creep on stealthily,
To spring like panthers on their foes’
Unwarned security.

This cannot be! And yet it is!
Discordance wild and drear
‘Twixt man and the fair dwelling place
Which God ordained his sphere.

We feel the discord, and would fain
Cloud with our gloom yon sky,
Teaching the stars our troubled looks,
The winds our mournful sigh.

Then looking higher, marvel much
Our loving God can brook,
In silence His majesty,
On such a wrong to look;

Nor interfere to help or save,
Where those who choose His side
Stand, overmatched, before the fort,
Or sink in battle-tide.

So think we, selfish hearts and blind!
While God smiles from His throne,
Strengthening his strivers for strife,
His slain to die alone!
E. Murray