John Marr and Other Poems Part 12

They knew the joy, but leaped the grief, Like plants that flower ere comes the leaf-- Which storms lay low in kindly doom, And kill them in their flush of bloom.

AMERICA

I Where the wings of a sunny Dome expand I saw a Banner in gladsome air-- Starry, like Berenice's Hair-- Afloat in broadened bravery there; With undulating long-drawn flow, As tolled Brazilian billows go Voluminously o'er the Line.

The Land reposed in peace below; The children in their glee Were folded to the exulting heart Of young Maternity.

II Later, and it streamed in fight When tempest mingled with the fray, And over the spear-point of the shaft I saw the ambiguous lightning play.

Valor with Valor strove, and died: Fierce was Despair, and cruel was Pride; And the lorn Mother speechless stood, Pale at the fury of her brood.

III Yet later, and the silk did wind Her fair cold form; Little availed the shining shroud, Though ruddy in hue, to cheer or warm.

A watcher looked upon her low, and said-- She sleeps, but sleeps, she is not dead.

But in that sleeps contortion showed The terror of the vision there-- A silent vision unavowed, Revealing earth's foundation bare, And Gorgon in her hidden place.

It was a thing of fear to see So foul a dream upon so fair a face, And the dreamer lying in that starry shroud.

IV But from the trance she sudden broke-- The trance, or death into promoted life; At her feet a shivered yoke, And in her aspect turned to heaven No trace of pa.s.sion or of strife-- A clear calm look. It spake of pain, But such as purifies from stain-- Sharp pangs that never come again-- And triumph repressed by knowledge meet, Power dedicate, and hope grown wise, And youth matured for age's seat-- Law on her brow and empire in her eyes.

So she, with graver air and lifted flag; While the shadow, chased by light, Fled along the far-drawn height, And left her on the crag.

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.

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 hid 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 piney 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 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.

COMMEMORATIVE OF A NAVAL VICTORY

Sailors there are of the gentlest breed, Yet strong, like every goodly thing; The discipline of arms refines, And the wave gives tempering.

The damasked blade its beam can fling; It lends the last grave grace: The hawk, the hound, and sworded n.o.bleman In t.i.tian's picture for a king, Are of hunter or warrior race.

In social halls a favored guest In years that follow victory won, How sweet to feel your festal fame In woman's glance instinctive thrown: Repose is yours--your deed is known, It musks the amber wine; It lives, and sheds a light from storied days Rich as October sunsets brown, Which make the barren place to shine.

But seldom the laurel wreath is seen Unmixed with pensive pansies dark; There's a light and a shadow on every man Who at last attains his lifted mark-- Nursing through night the ethereal spark.

Elate he never can be; He feels that spirit which glad had hailed his worth, Sleep in oblivion.--The shark Glides white through the phosphorus sea.