Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War Part 14

Inscription for Graves at Pea Ridge, Arkansas.

Let none misgive we died amiss When here we strove in furious fight: Furious it was; nathless was this Better than tranquil plight, And tame surrender of the Cause Hallowed by hearts and by the laws.

We here who warred for Man and Right, The choice of warring never laid with us.

There we were ruled by the traitor's choice.

Nor long we stood to trim and poise, But marched, and fell--victorious!

The Fort.i.tude of the North under the Disaster of the Second Mana.s.sas.

They take no shame for dark defeat While prizing yet each victory won, Who fight for the Right through all retreat, Nor pause until their work is done.

The Cape-of-Storms is proof to every throe; Vainly against that foreland beat Wild winds aloft and wilder waves below: The black cliffs gleam through rents in sleet When the livid Antarctic storm-clouds glow.

On the Men of Maine killed in the Victory of Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

Afar they fell. It was the zone Of fig and orange, cane and lime (A land how all unlike their own, With the cold pine-grove overgrown), But still their Country's clime.

And there in youth they died for her-- The Volunteers, For her went up their dying prayers: So vast the Nation, yet so strong the tie.

What doubt shall come, then, to deter The Republic's earnest faith and courage high.

An Epitaph.

When Sunday tidings from the front Made pale the priest and people, And heavily the blessing went, And bells were dumb in the steeple; The Soldier's widow (summering sweerly here, In shade by waving beeches lent) Felt deep at heart her faith content, And priest and people borrowed of her cheer.

Inscription for Marye's Heights, Fredericksburg.

To them who crossed the flood And climbed the hill, with eyes Upon the heavenly flag intent, And through the deathful tumult went Even unto death: to them this Stone-- Erect, where they were overthrown-- Of more than victory the monument.

The Mound by the Lake.

The gra.s.s shall never forget this grave.

When homeward footing it in the sun After the weary ride by rail, The stripling soldiers pa.s.sed her door, Wounded perchance, or wan and pale, She left her household work undone-- Duly the wayside table spread, With evergreens shaded, to regale Each travel-spent and grateful one.

So warm her heart--childless--unwed, Who like a mother comforted.

On the Slain at Chickamauga.

Happy are they and charmed in life Who through long wars arrive unscarred At peace. To such the wreath be given, If they unfalteringly have striven-- In honor, as in limb, unmarred.

Let cheerful praise be rife, And let them live their years at ease, Musing on brothers who victorious died-- Loved mates whose memory shall ever please.

And yet mischance is honorable too-- Seeming defeat in conflict justified Whose end to closing eyes is his from view.

The will, that never can relent-- The aim, survivor of the bafflement, Make this memorial due.

An uninscribed Monument on one of the Battle-fields of the Wilderness.

Silence and Solitude may hint (Whose home is in yon piny wood) What I, though tableted, could never tell-- The din which here befell, And striving of the mult.i.tude.

The iron cones and spheres of death Set round me in their rust, These, too, if just, Shall speak with more than animated breath.

Thou who beholdest, if thy thought, Not narrowed down to personal cheer, Take in the import of the quiet here-- The after-quiet--the calm full fraught; Thou too wilt silent stand-- Silent as I, and lonesome as the land.

On Sherman's Men who fell in the a.s.sault of Kenesaw Mountain, Georgia.

They said that Fame her clarion dropped Because great deeds were done no more-- That even Duty knew no shining ends, And Glory--'twas a fallen star!

But battle can heroes and bards restore.

Nay, look at Kenesaw: Perils the mailed ones never knew Are lightly braved by the ragged coats of blue, And gentler hearts are bared to deadlier war.

On the Grave of a young Cavalry Officer killed in the Valley of Virginia.

Beauty and youth, with manners sweet, and friends-- Gold, yet a mind not unenriched had he Whom here low violets veil from eyes.

But all these gifts transcended be: His happier fortune in this mound you see.

A Requiem for Soldiers lost in Ocean Transports.

When, after storms that woodlands rue, To valleys comes atoning dawn, The robins blithe their orchard-sports renew; And meadow-larks, no more withdrawn, Caroling fly in the languid blue; The while, from many a hid recess, Alert to partake the blessedness, The pouring mites their airy dance pursue.

So, after ocean's ghastly gales, When laughing light of hoyden morning breaks, Every finny hider wakes-- From vaults profound swims up with glittering scales; Through the delightsome sea he sails, With shoals of shining tiny things Frolic on every wave that flings Against the prow its showery spray; All creatures joying in the morn, Save them forever from joyance torn, Whose bark was lost where now the dolphins play; Save them that by the fabled sh.o.r.e, Down the pale stream are washed away, Far to the reef of bones are borne; And never revisits them the light, Nor sight of long-sought land and pilot more; Nor heed they now the lone bird's flight Round the lone spar where mid-sea surges pour.

On a natural Monument in a field of Georgia.[21]

No trophy this--a Stone unhewn, And stands where here the field immures The nameless brave whose palms are won.

Outcast they sleep; yet fame is nigh-- Pure fame of deeds, not doers; Nor deeds of men who bleeding die In cheer of hymns that round them float: In happy dreams such close the eye.