 | Later Lays and Lyrics |  |
DECORATION DAY.
I.
Cometh from bright, Elysian fields,Air that such balmy odor yields,
Or is it sweetened by the breath
Of Flora at the gates of death?
Immortelles, reaped on holy ground,
Wreath the Pale Mower's scythe around,
While flits the phantom of a smile
His ashen visage o'er the while.
II.
Marble forget-me-nots of artLone grandeur to the tomb impart
Linked, towering precious dust above
To pride, not sentiments of love,
'Till wreaths fair hands delight to form,
Their monumental coldness warm,
Tears in each cup, and chalice bright
Dropped by the star eyed mourner, Night.
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III.
The fancy of the gifted GreekThrough language of the flowers would speak;
Mute pathos of each withering leaf
Gave to bruised hearts a blest relief
When childhood died, or early lost
On beauty fell destroying frost:—
Thus Pericles of sternest mould
Wept, crowning Paralus of old.
IV.
Oh! to the nation's heart how dearDust of the martyrs buried here;
Long in this Greenwood of the soul
For them may voices call the roll!
To sepulchres in which they lie,
With frozen pulse and curtained eye,
May future generations pay
The reverent care we show to-day.
V.
Give to the pansy, streaked with jet,Place in a funeral coronet
Beside the lily of the vale
To grace tall shaft, or headstone pale.
Forget not, yet that mourn, between
Frail buds to weave the evergreen,
Sign that the faithful dead will be
Kept ever green in memory.
VI.
From Holy Writ we learn, alas!“Man's glory as the flower of grass”
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Then fades, and vanisheth away.
Meet, therefore, for these grassy beds,
Where pillowed lie heroic heads,
Are garlands, wet with tearful showers,
Culled from the sisterhood of flowers.
VII.
Tri-colored blossoms thickly spreadOver each warrior's narrow bed,
In tint and shade conforming well
With the dear flag for which they fell.
Bring roses of auroral glow,
Lilies that shame the mountain snow,
And to complete the colors three,
Bring blue bells from the Genesee.
VIII.
The “Flower of Love lies bleeding” wellWith mute significance will tell
How mothers of the martyred brave
Were brought in sorrow to the grave;
How wife, and broken-hearted maid
Still mourn for valor lowly laid,
And widowhood of sable veil,
Sobs out wild dirge-notes to the gale.
IX.
In spirit on this hallowed day,I visit hillocks far away,
And over them I long to fling
Bright, floral treasures of the Spring.
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While Love grows pale and woe-begone
To think, on mounds of their repose,
Not one poor native wild-flower grows.
X.
Fain would I grace blood-moistened earthWith tributes from their place of birth;
The dandelion's brooch of gold
Pluck from the tartan of the wold,
Or common flowers that smile at morn,
Near the lost homes where they were born,
To whisper on each lorn, drear spot,
“One faithful heart forgets ye not!”
XI
Endeared is Albion's chalky strandBy sports of merry Motherland
When dancing feet of nymphs kept time
Round May-poles, to soft music's chime;
And on the daisied village green
Crowned was a young and blushing queen,—
But doubly dear henceforth is May
Hallowed by “Decoration Day.”
XII.
Oh! is it not a thought sublimeThat at this blest, appointed time,
From dark Atlantic's coast-line grand
To far Pacific's golden strand,—
From orient hills in purple drest
To prairies of the mighty West;
From Northland to Floridian bowers,
Heroic graves are strewn with flowers.
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XIII.
With leaves that “sad embroidery” wearFrom field and grove cull wildlings rare
To symbolize our speechless woe
For rank and file, laid early low,
That nevermore one bondsman's chain
Might clank on Freedom's broad domain,
And, blood-cemented, to the skies
Our temple, block by block, might rise.
XIV.
The “Mountain Daisy,” by the plowOf Burns upturned, is blooming now,
More fortunate than sister flowers,
It fades not with the fleeting hours;
And honored well will be the bard,
Thrice blest, no longer evil-starred,
If, song embalmed, to perish never,
These funeral wreaths bloom on forever.
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