Poems By Walt Whitman Part 27

Over the tree-tops I float thee a song!

Over the rising and sinking waves--over the myriad fields, and the prairies wide; Over the dense-packed cities all, and the teeming wharves and ways, I float this carol with joy, with joy, to thee, O Death!

17.

To the tally of my soul Loud and strong kept up the grey-brown bird, With pure, deliberate notes, spreading, filling the night.

Loud in the pines and cedars dim, Clear in the freshness moist, and the swamp-perfume, And I with my Comrades there in the night.

While my sight that was bound in my eyes unclosed, As to long panoramas of visions.

18.

I saw the vision of armies; And I saw, as in noiseless dreams, hundreds of battle-flags; Borne through the smoke of the battles, and pierced with missiles, I saw them, And carried hither and yon through the smoke, and torn and b.l.o.o.d.y; And at last but a few shreds of the flags left on the staffs, (and all in silence,) And the staffs all splintered and broken.

I saw battle-corpses, myriads of them, And the white skeletons of young men--I saw them; I saw the debris and debris of all dead soldiers.

But I saw they were not as was thought; They themselves were fully at rest--they suffered not; The living remained and suffered--the mother suffered, And the wife and the child, and the musing comrade suffered, And the armies that remained suffered.

19.

Pa.s.sing the visions, pa.s.sing the night; Pa.s.sing, unloosing the hold of my Comrades' hands; Pa.s.sing the song of the hermit bird, and the tallying song of my soul; Victorious song, Death's outlet song, yet varying, ever-altering song; As low and wailing, yet clear, the notes, rising and falling, flooding the night, Sadly sinking and fainting, as warning and warning, and yet again bursting with joy.

Covering the earth, and filling the spread of the heaven, As that powerful psalm in the night, I heard from recesses.

20.

Must I leave thee, lilac with heart-shaped leaves?

Must I leave thee there in the door-yard, blooming, returning with spring?

Must I pa.s.s from my song for thee-- From my gaze on thee in the west, fronting the west, communing with thee, O comrade l.u.s.trous, with silver face in the night?

21.

Yet each I keep, and all; The song, the wondrous chant of the grey-brown bird, And the tallying chant, the echo aroused in my soul, With the l.u.s.trous and drooping star, with the countenance full of woe; With the lilac tali, and its blossoms of mastering odour; Comrades mine, and I in the midst, and their memory ever I keep--for the dead I loved so well; For the sweetest, wisest soul of all my days and lands--and this for his dear sake; Lilac and star and bird, twined with the chant of my soul, With the holders holding my hand, nearing the call of the bird, There in the fragrant pines, and the cedars dusk and dim.

[Footnote 1: "The evening star, which, as many may remember night after night, in the early part of that eventful spring, hung low in the west with unusual and tender brightness."--JOHN BURROUGHS.]

_O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!_ (FOR THE DEATH OF LINCOLN.)

1.

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done!

The ship has weathered every wrack, the prize we sought is won.

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring.

But, O heart! heart! heart!

Leave you not the little spot Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

2.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells!

Rise up! for you the flag is flung, for you the bugle trills: For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths; for you the sh.o.r.es a-crowding: For you they call, the swaying ma.s.s, their eager faces turning.

O Captain! dear father!

This arm I push beneath you.

It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead!

3.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still: My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will.

But the ship, the ship is anch.o.r.ed safe, its voyage closed and done: From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won!

Exult, O sh.o.r.es! and ring, O bells!

But I, with silent tread, Walk the spot my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

_PIONEERS! O PIONEERS!_

1.

Come, my tan-faced children, Follow well in order, get your weapons ready; Have you your pistols? have you your sharp-edged axes?

Pioneers! O pioneers!

2.

For we cannot tarry here, We must march, my darlings, we must bear the brunt of danger, We, the youthful sinewy races, all the rest on us depend.

Pioneers! O pioneers!

3.

O you youths, Western youths, So impatient, full of action, full of manly pride and friendship, Plain I see you, Western youths, see you tramping with the foremost, Pioneers! O pioneers!

4.

Have the elder races halted?

Do they droop and end their lesson, wearied, over there beyond the seas?

We take up the task eternal, and the burden, and the lesson, Pioneers! O pioneers!