The lion's cub with other verse |
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DECORATION DAY. |
 | The lion's cub |  |
96
DECORATION DAY.
I walked the streets at midnight,
But my thoughts were far away;
For my leaf of life now withered
Was green again with May.
But my thoughts were far away;
For my leaf of life now withered
Was green again with May.
The snows of twenty winters
Had vanished from my brow,
And I,—ah me,—looked forward,
As I look backward now.
Had vanished from my brow,
And I,—ah me,—looked forward,
As I look backward now.
Why should I not look forward?
I knew my soul was strong;
I knew there was within me
The might there is in Song.
I knew my soul was strong;
I knew there was within me
The might there is in Song.
My heart was light and friendly,
I loved my fellow-men,
And I loved—how much—my comrades,
For I had comrades then.
I loved my fellow-men,
And I loved—how much—my comrades,
For I had comrades then.
Where are those dear old fellows?
Ah, whither have they flown?
I asked myself at midnight,
As I walked the streets alone.
Ah, whither have they flown?
I asked myself at midnight,
As I walked the streets alone.
97
There was Fitz, the Irish singer,
And Fred, the tender heart,
And Harry, who lived for Woman,
And Tom, who lived for Art.
And Fred, the tender heart,
And Harry, who lived for Woman,
And Tom, who lived for Art.
Poor Fitz's song is over,
And the heart of Fred is still;
One went down at Yorktown,
The other at Malvern Hill.
And the heart of Fred is still;
One went down at Yorktown,
The other at Malvern Hill.
Wrapt in the blue they fought in,
They buried them where they lay;
And elsewhere Tom and Harry,
Who wore, poor lads, the gray.
They buried them where they lay;
And elsewhere Tom and Harry,
Who wore, poor lads, the gray.
As I walked the streets at midnight,
And remembered the awful years
That snatched my comrades from me,
My eyes were filled with tears.
And remembered the awful years
That snatched my comrades from me,
My eyes were filled with tears.
I thought of bloody battles,
Where thousands such as they
Had met and killed each other
For wearing the blue and the gray.
Where thousands such as they
Had met and killed each other
For wearing the blue and the gray.
Of happy homes that were darkened,
Of hearths that were desolate,
Of tender hearts that were broken,
Of love that was turned to hate.
Of hearths that were desolate,
Of tender hearts that were broken,
Of love that was turned to hate.
98
I pitied the wretched living,
I think I did the dead;
I know I sighed for Harry,
And dropped a tear for Fred.
I think I did the dead;
I know I sighed for Harry,
And dropped a tear for Fred.
“Poor boys!” I said. But pondering
What was, and might have been
(What I am in the sere leaf,
And they were in the green).
What was, and might have been
(What I am in the sere leaf,
And they were in the green).
I pitied my dead no longer;
I did not dare to. No.
They went when they were summoned,
Before, they could not go.
I did not dare to. No.
They went when they were summoned,
Before, they could not go.
When we know what Life and Death are,
We shall then know which is best;
Meanwhile we live and labor:
Their labor done, they rest.
We shall then know which is best;
Meanwhile we live and labor:
Their labor done, they rest.
The earth lies heavy on them,
But they do not complain;
They do not miss the sunshine,
They do not feel the rain.
But they do not complain;
They do not miss the sunshine,
They do not feel the rain.
If they are ever conscious,
In that long sleep of theirs,
It is when, past the winter,
We feel the first spring airs.
In that long sleep of theirs,
It is when, past the winter,
We feel the first spring airs.
99
When the birds from tropic countries
Come back again to ours,
And where of late were snow-drifts,
The grass is thick with flowers;
Come back again to ours,
And where of late were snow-drifts,
The grass is thick with flowers;
Such flowers as will to-morrow
Be scattered where they lie,
The blue and gray together,
Beneath the same sweet sky.
Be scattered where they lie,
The blue and gray together,
Beneath the same sweet sky.
No stain upon their manhood,
No memory of the Past,
Except the common valor
That made us One at last.
No memory of the Past,
Except the common valor
That made us One at last.
| The lion's cub | |