 | Poems : medley and Palestina |  |
UNDER THE COLORS.
The Battalion.
A thousand strong we marched to battle;
The city roared around the host;
The tambours blared their vaunting rattle;
The bugles yelled their joyous boast.
The city roared around the host;
The tambours blared their vaunting rattle;
The bugles yelled their joyous boast.
No thought had we to die asunder,
Companions sworn, a brother throng;
We looked to sweep through battle's thunder
In mighty lines, a thousand strong.
Companions sworn, a brother throng;
We looked to sweep through battle's thunder
In mighty lines, a thousand strong.
But ah, the fever's poisoned arrow!
The jungle's breath! the summer's glow!
Our broad array grew swiftly narrow,
And scanty hundreds met the foe.
The jungle's breath! the summer's glow!
Our broad array grew swiftly narrow,
And scanty hundreds met the foe.
O fervid longings, thoughts and fancies
That tread the city of the soul,
How few of all your spirit-lances
Arrive where glory's trumpets roll!
That tread the city of the soul,
How few of all your spirit-lances
Arrive where glory's trumpets roll!
4
The Combat.
Without a ripple stretched the plain;
For months we had not seen a hill;
The endless, hot savannah still
Fatigued the eye with waving cane.
For months we had not seen a hill;
The endless, hot savannah still
Fatigued the eye with waving cane.
A jungly forest lay before,
(The ambush of the wary foe);
In front, a stagnant sluice with low,
Reed-bordered, spongy, inky shore;
(The ambush of the wary foe);
In front, a stagnant sluice with low,
Reed-bordered, spongy, inky shore;
Along the right a mildewed swamp
Where alligators slept or crawled,
And pallid cypress-titans sprawled,
And mosses drooped their funeral pomp;
Where alligators slept or crawled,
And pallid cypress-titans sprawled,
And mosses drooped their funeral pomp;
While leftward crept a dull lagoon,
As black as Charon's woful tide,
With plains beyond it blistering wide
Beneath the white-hot gleam of noon.
As black as Charon's woful tide,
With plains beyond it blistering wide
Beneath the white-hot gleam of noon.
Gray, fitful spits of musketry
Announced our skirmishers at work;
We saw their darkling figures lurk
In thickets, firing from the knee.
Announced our skirmishers at work;
We saw their darkling figures lurk
In thickets, firing from the knee.
Our cannon searched the distant wood
With humming, shrieking, cracking shell,
When suddenly the mouth of hell
Reclaimed its polyphemic food.
With humming, shrieking, cracking shell,
When suddenly the mouth of hell
Reclaimed its polyphemic food.
5
Menacing ghosts of whirling smoke
Arose a hundred yards ahead,
And deadly storms of hissing lead
From rifle-pit and canefield broke.
Arose a hundred yards ahead,
And deadly storms of hissing lead
From rifle-pit and canefield broke.
Then, while the bullets whistled shrill
And hidden batteries boomed and growled,
“Make ready! Aim!” the colonel howled;
“Battalion, forward! Fire at will!”
And hidden batteries boomed and growled,
“Make ready! Aim!” the colonel howled;
“Battalion, forward! Fire at will!”
Right on against the foeman's wold,
With eager, gladsome, deafening fire
And whoops that keened each moment higher,
The dark-blue, living billow rolled.
With eager, gladsome, deafening fire
And whoops that keened each moment higher,
The dark-blue, living billow rolled.
The color-guard was at my side;
I heard the giant sergeant groan;
I heard the bullet crush the bone;
I might have touched him as he died.
I heard the giant sergeant groan;
I heard the bullet crush the bone;
I might have touched him as he died.
I had no malice in my mind;
I only cried, “Close up! Guide right!”
My single purpose through the fight
Was quick advance with ranks aligned.
I only cried, “Close up! Guide right!”
My single purpose through the fight
Was quick advance with ranks aligned.
The foemen rose, then turned and fled;
A loosened, grey-clad multitude
Receded, vanished 'mid the wood,
And left us smiling o'er the dead.
A loosened, grey-clad multitude
Receded, vanished 'mid the wood,
And left us smiling o'er the dead.
Again the march, the endless plain,
The father-river hedged in dykes;
Gray cypresses, palmetto spikes,
Bayou and swamp and yellowing cane;
The father-river hedged in dykes;
Gray cypresses, palmetto spikes,
Bayou and swamp and yellowing cane;
6
With rare plantations, richly spelled
In blooms, bananas, orange groves,
Where laugh the sauntering negro droves,
Reposing from the task of eld;
In blooms, bananas, orange groves,
Where laugh the sauntering negro droves,
Reposing from the task of eld;
And, rarer, half-deserted towns,
Devoid of men, where women spit
Their helpless hate, and sidling flit
With writhing scowl and flouting gowns;
Devoid of men, where women spit
Their helpless hate, and sidling flit
With writhing scowl and flouting gowns;
But everywhere, 'mid toils and scorns,
A noble sense of honor won,
A nobler sense of duty done,
A crown achieved, though sharp with thorns.
A noble sense of honor won,
A nobler sense of duty done,
A crown achieved, though sharp with thorns.
Campaigning.
I
The war was weary long.How long and wearisome it was,
That strife 'twixt valiant right and valiant wrong,
'Twixt anarchy and crystallizing laws!
How weary, weary were the marches
In lands where noontide parches
The pulsing torrents of the veins!
How many steaming plains,
Now ashy waste,
Now thick with honeyed canes,
Our footfalls slowly paced
From glaring rim to rim,
While fever's vipers strayed
7
And gnawing hunger preyed
Till e'en that garish land grew dim!
The poison-sucking moons
Hung over black lagoons
And poured their venom through the hazy night;
The dawns were damp with blight,
And all the golden-quivered noons
Shot arrows glowing white
That struck full many down in mortal swoons.
II
Yea, long and fearful was the strife.How many mighty champions,
How many evil Titans, bounded
From caves of Chaos and Affright
To spend their savage life
In wrestling with the shining ones
Who guard the fortress of the right!
How many cruel clarions sounded
More hortative and loud
Than Roland's trumpet when he bowed
To death in Roncesvale!
I heard all notes that wail
Through battle's vibrant scale.
I heard the dying when they sighed
Like wearied children pitiful and meek;
I heard the wounded when they cried
Their wild, astonished shriek,
The cry of one who feels his pulses fail
And all his strength turn weak
8
And open swiftly wide
A black and bottomless abyss.
III
I heard the bullet's hiss,Incessant, sharp and fell,
The keenest, deadliest note
That bursts from battle's throat;
The piercing screech and jarring whirr
Of grape and canister;
And flying from afar, the shell
With changeful, throbbing, husky yell,
A demon tiger, leaping miles
To spread his iron claws
And tear the bleeding files;
While oft arose the charging cry
Of men who battled for a glorious cause
And died when it was beautiful to die.
IV
In long pursuits,When every blistered footstep seemed to bleed,
When reeling ranks outwore the very brutes
And every furlong showed its dying steed,
How strange, with aching eyes to scan
The flying dust of cavalry,
(The horsemen of our van)
That up and down the roadways ran
Untiringly as billows of the sea,
Retreating and attacking, coming, going,
9
While here and there
A sabre's glare
Revealed that Death was busy there.
Strange, too, again,
Athwart some scintillating plain,
To see advance through tremulous rays
The solemn, columned haze
Of mighty marchings, visible afar,
The dim afreets of war,
The gliding pillar-clouds of Death's simoom,
The tempest-demons, charged with doom,
That over war's Sahara swarm,
Menacing, monstrous, climbing skies
And hasting to descend in storm
Of crashing ranks and booming batteries.
V
In middle night,In dewy silence, ocean-deep,
The hundred-pounder on the bastioned height
Awakened from its ponderous sleep
And poured with all its iron might
A lion-like, a grandly solemn roar
That boomed and shuddered on
From horizon to horizon
Until the lofty frame
Of darkness shook from roof to floor.
Then rose the bomb a-sky,
A lurid, crimson, bloody fiend of flame
That mounted swiftly while that awful cry
10
It clomb, it soared, it curved its flight,
It paused one fearful moment overhead,
A meteor as red as hell;
Then burst in ruins deadly white,
In ghastly shatterings of livid light,
Magnificent, sublime and fell;
While, clanging like a Pandemonic bell,
The great explosion shuddered on
From horizon to horizon;
And once again the monstrous dome of night
Reeled outward from the roar
And shook from awful peak to boundless floor.
VI
Yea, fearful were the sights and soundsThat swept the war's wide bounds.
It seemed at times as though we trod
Another and most fearful world,
Unknown perchance to God,
Or else long since to ruin hurled.
Yet never did our spirit shrink;
We marched and fought with steady heart;
We marched to Hades' brink
Without a coward start.
Our cause was good,
Befitting manhood's noblest mood;
And it was noble, too, to brave
The great unknown beyond the grave.
All this was godlike, worthy all
That we had power to give,
11
Sore wounded; yea, should cease to live.
Forward.
A soldier laid him down to die:
His wound was deep, his life a-failing:
He called a comrade charging by:
The shells were flying, balls a-hailing.
His wound was deep, his life a-failing:
He called a comrade charging by:
The shells were flying, balls a-hailing.
“O brother, take this purse of gold:”
The steeds were rushing, cannon leaping:
“And bear it to my mother old:”
His voice was shaken here with weeping.
The steeds were rushing, cannon leaping:
“And bear it to my mother old:”
His voice was shaken here with weeping.
“O brother,” said the comrade then:
The turf was red with blood a-streaming:
“Your errand fits but wounded men:
The bayonets came on a-gleaming.
The turf was red with blood a-streaming:
“Your errand fits but wounded men:
The bayonets came on a-gleaming.
“I came to fight, and not to fly:
I shall not live to see your mother:
So pray that I may bravely die,
And trust your treasure to another.”
I shall not live to see your mother:
So pray that I may bravely die,
And trust your treasure to another.”
The Storming Column.
Do you remember the storming column
That Banks sent up one night of June?
Do you recall the grandly solemn
Advance withouten star or moon?
The tangled wood and the boding cry
Of owls that jeered us on to die?
That Banks sent up one night of June?
Do you recall the grandly solemn
Advance withouten star or moon?
The tangled wood and the boding cry
Of owls that jeered us on to die?
12
Afar in stifling night we heard
The picket rattle rise and fall;
Now and then the leaves were stirred
Above our heads by a random ball;
There were no clamored orders then,
The orders came from whispering men.
The picket rattle rise and fall;
Now and then the leaves were stirred
Above our heads by a random ball;
There were no clamored orders then,
The orders came from whispering men.
Our road by dark battalions ran,
By sections harnessed, man and steed;
We heard them croak, “There goes the van”;
And then we knew that we should lead
The battle; but our hearts would roam,
And many thought, “Adieu to home.”
By sections harnessed, man and steed;
We heard them croak, “There goes the van”;
And then we knew that we should lead
The battle; but our hearts would roam,
And many thought, “Adieu to home.”
The colonel groped before the files
Of bayonets bare and sabres drawn;
We roamed and stumbled dusky miles,
And night had paled to filmy dawn
When yellow earthworks loomed ahead
And howling battle called our dead.
Of bayonets bare and sabres drawn;
We roamed and stumbled dusky miles,
And night had paled to filmy dawn
When yellow earthworks loomed ahead
And howling battle called our dead.
Then officer and soldier yelled,
And wildly charged the old brigade;
The hoarse hurrahs one moment quelled
The rifle crash and cannonade;
I think the very caves of death
Reëchoed that heroic breath.
And wildly charged the old brigade;
The hoarse hurrahs one moment quelled
The rifle crash and cannonade;
I think the very caves of death
Reëchoed that heroic breath.
For the dying shouted as they died,
Cheering their panting comrades on;
And though the clanging bronze replied,
They heard it not, for they were gone;
And thus I think their final call
Entered the gates of Odin's hall.
Cheering their panting comrades on;
And though the clanging bronze replied,
They heard it not, for they were gone;
13
Entered the gates of Odin's hall.
We reached the trench; our foremost dead
Dotted the smoking mounds with blue;
The bastions flushed with clotting red,
And still the hissing bullets flew;
They hailed along the gullied banks
And thinned the wearied, broken ranks.
Dotted the smoking mounds with blue;
The bastions flushed with clotting red,
And still the hissing bullets flew;
They hailed along the gullied banks
And thinned the wearied, broken ranks.
In vain supporting cannon roared,
In vain renewed battalions pressed;
The Southern flag triumphant soared,
We could not smoor the flaming crest;
We could not conquer—could but die.
Yet all the war was a victory.
In vain renewed battalions pressed;
The Southern flag triumphant soared,
We could not smoor the flaming crest;
We could not conquer—could but die.
Yet all the war was a victory.
The Bloody Grove.
The wood was strewn with gray and blue,
The smoke was coiled and looping,
When onward came the foe anew
With shrieking and with whooping.
The smoke was coiled and looping,
When onward came the foe anew
With shrieking and with whooping.
The cannon tore the leafy aisles,
The beeches flew asunder
And tottered through the scanty files
In plunging, crackling thunder.
The beeches flew asunder
And tottered through the scanty files
In plunging, crackling thunder.
We knelt beside the fallen trees,
Beside our fallen brothers,—
We thought of others on their knees,
Of darlings and of mothers.
Beside our fallen brothers,—
We thought of others on their knees,
Of darlings and of mothers.
14
We glanced aloft and bade farewell
To earth, its joy and beauty;
Then made our every bullet tell
For honor and for duty.
To earth, its joy and beauty;
Then made our every bullet tell
For honor and for duty.
The wood was strewn with dying men,
The turf was red and reeking,
When onward came the foe agen
With whooping and with shrieking.
The turf was red and reeking,
When onward came the foe agen
With whooping and with shrieking.
Lost and Won.
I
The battle sprang through dingy dawn,A stealthy battle shod with lawn.
It scared the morning with its leap,
A tiger battle slaying sleep.
One aster pierced the reddening east
And lit the monster to his feast.
From lofty heights that faced our camp
He crept on paws of velvet wiles
Down torrent gulches green and damp,
Up wooded slopes and gray defiles,
Till, stealing round our leftward wing,
He crouched and made his fearful spring.
II
My foot was on the stirrup plate,My hand was on the saddle bow;
I leaped astride and spurred agate
Through tangled paths to spy the foe.
15
The lanskip showed no living shape.
I saw but woodlands draped in haze;
One foreland groping like a cape
Through pallid gulfs; beyond, a pall
Of tiding mists; and that was all.
But still afar I heard the yell
Of men who conquered, men who fell.
III
Then presently a phantom groveDisparted wide its filmy aisles;
And through them, half discovered, drove
A drifting swarm of broken files,
Accoutred as they sprang from sleep;
Half vestured; herding close, like sheep
In terror; glancing back amazed,
And croaking low, as creatures dazed
By some incredible mischance,
A thrust of magic's fated lance.
In vain were rally calls. They stared
Unanswering, and ever fared
To rearward, stolidly as hosts
Of brutes, and helplessly as ghosts.
So disappeared our shattered van,
And so the daylong fight began,
While downward drave that lurid star
(Red Thor menacing from his car),
And slowly clomb in rosy lawn
The unavailing peace of dawn.
16
IV
Now silence fell—a moment's grace—An anxious, fearful breathing space—
Like that between two evil dreams,
Two combing waves, two levin gleams,—
The while we swiftly altered form,
Battalions wheeling, swarm by swarm,
The ranks a-shake and intertwined,
The very chieftains groping blind
To meet the coming of a foe
Whose striking-place we could not know,—
A panther-footed foe whose claws
Crept daintily through morning's gauze.
V
Then battle's second billow broke,With tongues of fire and spouting smoke,
With whirring grape and howling shell,
With yelping, piercing yell on yell.
The cannon-vapor folded high,
The spiteful bullet speeded by,
While back we drifted, ever back,
A bleeding, rifted, reeling wrack,
The field with mangled men bestrown,
With fallen steeds, guns overthrown,
And foul with sprinklings, trails and pools
Of blood, as 'twere a land of ghouls.
17
VI
Till noon the hurrying foe prevailed,Nor any stroke of ours availed.
But then! O what a change there was!
He came! the Roland of our cause!
He came! we needed but his glance
To halt, to rally, and advance,
To strike as 'twere a dying blow,
And see the day all laureled go.
O monstrous joy, akin to madness!
O cruel joy, the victor's gladness!
His dearest comrade falls anear;
He rushes on without a tear.
He leaps along the roaring field
And laughs to see the foemen yield.
He faces death's demoniac jaws
And rends the air with gay hurrahs.
No other joy that earth may give,
No other moment man may live,
Outshines the radiant moment whiles
Red victory crowns the weary files.
The Battle Flag.
I beckon onward charging men,
I head the bleeding rally,
I flaunt along the rattling glen,
Along the booming valley.
I head the bleeding rally,
I flaunt along the rattling glen,
Along the booming valley.
I waver through the bloody sedge
That rims the black morasses;
I climb the mountain's smoky ledge
And rive the columned masses.
That rims the black morasses;
18
And rive the columned masses.
I span the river's icy flight,
I flout the squadroned horses,
I scale the rampart's steely height
And throb above the corses.
I flout the squadroned horses,
I scale the rampart's steely height
And throb above the corses.
A dozen men have borne my staff,
And, clutching it, have perished;
But still along the war I laugh,
And still my rags are cherished.
And, clutching it, have perished;
But still along the war I laugh,
And still my rags are cherished.
I lead my children through the flame,
All marching in their places;
I cheer my darlings on to fame
And kiss their dying faces.
All marching in their places;
I cheer my darlings on to fame
And kiss their dying faces.
I muster scarce a hundred braves
Beneath my crimsoned glory.
O heroes, forward to your graves,
And plant my pike in story!
Beneath my crimsoned glory.
O heroes, forward to your graves,
And plant my pike in story!
The Boy Soldier.
O my sunny
Boy, my beauty,
Mad to strike a blow!
Not for money,
Not for duty
Would I let thee go.
Boy, my beauty,
Mad to strike a blow!
Not for money,
Not for duty
Would I let thee go.
19
Spare the mother,
Growing hoary,
Not for long below;
Let another
Win the glory,
Rushing on the foe.
Growing hoary,
Not for long below;
Let another
Win the glory,
Rushing on the foe.
Ah, the ruddy
Soldier laddie,
Waking all aglow!
What a bloody
Slumber had he
Ere the sun was low!
Soldier laddie,
Waking all aglow!
What a bloody
Slumber had he
Ere the sun was low!
Half a city,
Treading slowly,
Joined the funeral show.
Grant me pity,
Holy, holy
Comforter of woe!
Treading slowly,
Joined the funeral show.
Grant me pity,
Holy, holy
Comforter of woe!
After the War.
How few remember now the days,
The peddling days, before the war,
When life was like a one-horse chaise
And “thirty cents” a morning star,
When Bunker Hill “descended down”
If cotton planters deigned to frown!
The peddling days, before the war,
When life was like a one-horse chaise
And “thirty cents” a morning star,
When Bunker Hill “descended down”
If cotton planters deigned to frown!
20
We washed them clean, those scrolls of shame,
In seas of blood. We crossed them off
With powder stain and scorch of flame.
The kings no longer grin and scoff
At Freedom throned on hosts of slaves.
We balanced that with hosts of graves.
In seas of blood. We crossed them off
With powder stain and scorch of flame.
The kings no longer grin and scoff
At Freedom throned on hosts of slaves.
We balanced that with hosts of graves.
O comrades, render thanks to God
For Bull Run's day of panic terrors.
That overthrow was Yahveh's rod
To scourge afar the groveling errors
That trade is manhood's loftiest pride,
And man's most precious part, his hide.
For Bull Run's day of panic terrors.
That overthrow was Yahveh's rod
To scourge afar the groveling errors
That trade is manhood's loftiest pride,
And man's most precious part, his hide.
Our fight was nobler for disaster,
No easy stroke were half so grand.
The nation's genius rose the vaster
Because of trial. Our spacious land
Gave narrow scope for such events
As trode its vast circumference.
No easy stroke were half so grand.
The nation's genius rose the vaster
Because of trial. Our spacious land
Gave narrow scope for such events
As trode its vast circumference.
Glorious braves those rebels were,
As gallant ranks as ever dashed
Up smoking steeps with bayonets bare,
While volleys whizzed and cannon crashed
Athwart the swarms of grey-clad men,—
The memory makes me drop the pen.
As gallant ranks as ever dashed
Up smoking steeps with bayonets bare,
While volleys whizzed and cannon crashed
Athwart the swarms of grey-clad men,—
The memory makes me drop the pen.
I think it might be fine to hear
Their whoop again,—their panther yell:
No trained hurrah, no classic cheer;
But savage yelps of wold and fell;
A cry of wolves in hunting bout;
And yet a stirring, martial shout.
Their whoop again,—their panther yell:
No trained hurrah, no classic cheer;
But savage yelps of wold and fell;
21
And yet a stirring, martial shout.
At Gettysburg how swift they came,
Right-shoulder-shift, quick-step, guide right,
Defying all our roar and flame
With yell on yell as they clomb the height,
The fighting blood of a hero race
Ablaze in every swarthy face!
Right-shoulder-shift, quick-step, guide right,
Defying all our roar and flame
With yell on yell as they clomb the height,
The fighting blood of a hero race
Ablaze in every swarthy face!
The future of a country reeled
When Longstreet crowned the deadly hill;
One more brigade had gained the field,
Perchance for centuries of ill;
And never yet were statues run
For worthier men than those who won.
When Longstreet crowned the deadly hill;
One more brigade had gained the field,
Perchance for centuries of ill;
And never yet were statues run
For worthier men than those who won.
The Echo Drummer.
The mellow drum of the echoes
Is beating beneath the crag,
And doubtless the elfin warriors
Are gathered round their flag.
Is beating beneath the crag,
And doubtless the elfin warriors
Are gathered round their flag.
I fancy I see them rally,
I fancy I see them form:—
Hurrah! 'tis the oldtime banner;
Once more, battalion, we storm.
I fancy I see them form:—
Hurrah! 'tis the oldtime banner;
Once more, battalion, we storm.
Smoke eddies from ledge and thicket
Where skirmishers crawl and kneel;
From forest and winding valley,
Where flanking regiments wheel.
Where skirmishers crawl and kneel;
From forest and winding valley,
Where flanking regiments wheel.
22
Along the base of the mountain
It streams like a line of spray;
Above, the battery-tempest
Drives billows of curling gray.
It streams like a line of spray;
Above, the battery-tempest
Drives billows of curling gray.
I hear the yell of the colonel,
The captain's hurrying call,
The tramp of the panting soldiers,
The ramrod's hammering fall;
The captain's hurrying call,
The tramp of the panting soldiers,
The ramrod's hammering fall;
The clang of the brass howitzer,
The iron gun's muffled growl,
The thrum of the whirling splinter,
The grapeshot's tigerish howl;
The iron gun's muffled growl,
The thrum of the whirling splinter,
The grapeshot's tigerish howl;
The stunning crash of the volleys,
The longdrawn fire of the files,
The bullet's incessant whistle—
Exultings of death for miles.
The longdrawn fire of the files,
The bullet's incessant whistle—
Exultings of death for miles.
And louder than all, and grimmer,
The jubilant charging yell,
The scream of the old battalion
As it storms through battle's hell.
The jubilant charging yell,
The scream of the old battalion
As it storms through battle's hell.
Again the grasses are reddened
With earth's most precious of dies;
The blood of heroes is flowing—
And tears are blinding my eyes.
With earth's most precious of dies;
The blood of heroes is flowing—
And tears are blinding my eyes.
I waken to hear but only
The summer's warble and hum,
And, stamping in mimic warfare,
An infant beating a drum.
The summer's warble and hum,
And, stamping in mimic warfare,
An infant beating a drum.
23
Pickett's Charge.
The war had robbed the cradle,
The war had robbed the grave,
And boys with ringlets golden
Bore bayonet and glaive,
And grandsires flung their olden
Thin hair to battle's wave
When Pickett charged the folden
Pale mists where slaughters rave.
The war had robbed the grave,
And boys with ringlets golden
Bore bayonet and glaive,
And grandsires flung their olden
Thin hair to battle's wave
When Pickett charged the folden
Pale mists where slaughters rave.
He trode the smitten valley,
The headland's hissing glade,
Right through the bullet tempest,
Right through the cannonade,
Till rank tore rank asunder
With bayonet and blade,
Till earth arose in wonder
To see the death he made.
The headland's hissing glade,
Right through the bullet tempest,
Right through the cannonade,
Till rank tore rank asunder
With bayonet and blade,
Till earth arose in wonder
To see the death he made.
Six thousand were his heroes,
Three thousand those who bled;
They marched without a shiver
To join the knightly dead;
They crossed the ghostly river
With swift and steady tread;
And fame will shine forever
Around that column's head.
Three thousand those who bled;
They marched without a shiver
To join the knightly dead;
They crossed the ghostly river
With swift and steady tread;
And fame will shine forever
Around that column's head.
The war had robbed the cradle,
The war had robbed the tomb,
And men whose hair was hoary
And youngsters in their bloom
Went shouting through the glory
That folds where cannon boom,
When Pickett stormed the gory
Sublimities of doom.
The war had robbed the tomb,
And men whose hair was hoary
And youngsters in their bloom
24
That folds where cannon boom,
When Pickett stormed the gory
Sublimities of doom.
Raven Van Ross.
They say that the Vandals will come.
I would not believe it till now;
But this horrible throbbing and hum
Is the tramp of their march drawing near
And the roll of their barbarous drum.
So let me remember my vow,
And hasten forth, robed for my bier,
To strike at the joy of their cheer,
To strike and leave some one dumb.
I would not believe it till now;
But this horrible throbbing and hum
Is the tramp of their march drawing near
And the roll of their barbarous drum.
So let me remember my vow,
And hasten forth, robed for my bier,
To strike at the joy of their cheer,
To strike and leave some one dumb.
My lineage is gentle and old,
And my heart is virginal pure;
My hair is a girl's flossy gold
And my hand is of satiny gloss;
But no heart can more proudly endure
The anguish of honor's red cross;
No hand with the pistol is truer,
And I'll shoot the first Yankee as sure
As my name is Raven Van Ross.
And my heart is virginal pure;
My hair is a girl's flossy gold
And my hand is of satiny gloss;
But no heart can more proudly endure
The anguish of honor's red cross;
No hand with the pistol is truer,
And I'll shoot the first Yankee as sure
As my name is Raven Van Ross.
She speeded forth into the night
And spied the dark column anigh;
She stood there in delicate white,
A maiden too lovely to die;
Too precious for aught but the sight
Of love, and the kiss of his mouth,
And the clasp of his yearning delight;
But maddened by echoes of fight
And the passionate blood of the South.
And spied the dark column anigh;
She stood there in delicate white,
A maiden too lovely to die;
25
Of love, and the kiss of his mouth,
And the clasp of his yearning delight;
But maddened by echoes of fight
And the passionate blood of the South.
She shot. But no death-cry replied.
The column sent backward no ball.
It trampled on, massive and wide,
From curbstone to curbstone across,
Dumb, solemn and black as a pall;
Unknowing that close by its side,
Withdrawn from life's hyssop and gall,
Heart-broken, death-stricken, lay all
That remained of Raven Van Ross.
The column sent backward no ball.
It trampled on, massive and wide,
From curbstone to curbstone across,
Dumb, solemn and black as a pall;
Unknowing that close by its side,
Withdrawn from life's hyssop and gall,
Heart-broken, death-stricken, lay all
That remained of Raven Van Ross.
| Poems : medley and Palestina | |