 | Poems, original and translated |  |
COMMEMORATION.
How beautiful the feet that slowly tread
Thy silent streets, O City of the Dead!
How beautiful the hands that bring these flowers,
The fragrant offerings of the balmy hours!
Come to the “Field of God,” while flying Spring
Fans the green earth with blossom-laden wing,
And, hovering, waves farewell, ere yet she soars
Where Spring perennial gilds immortal shores,—
Come, softly lay on many an honored grave
Affection's tribute to the true and brave!
Thy silent streets, O City of the Dead!
How beautiful the hands that bring these flowers,
The fragrant offerings of the balmy hours!
Come to the “Field of God,” while flying Spring
Fans the green earth with blossom-laden wing,
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Where Spring perennial gilds immortal shores,—
Come, softly lay on many an honored grave
Affection's tribute to the true and brave!
In these calm precincts of untroubled peace,
Earth's din and strife, its toil and turmoil, cease;
And here the soldier rests from that stern strife
In which for freedom's cause he gave his life.
By day heaven's broad, blue curtain, high outspread,
The tent-roof stretches o'er his silent bed;
And through the dusk, or soft in lunar light,
The starry flag of Freedom gleams by night.
How peacefully he rests! how still and deep,
How sound and breathless his unbroken sleep!
The trumpet's call shall startle him no more;
Nor musket's flash, nor cannon-thunder's roar,
Nor clash of steel, nor foeman's midnight tramp
Shall break the stillness of this solemn camp.
Earth's din and strife, its toil and turmoil, cease;
And here the soldier rests from that stern strife
In which for freedom's cause he gave his life.
By day heaven's broad, blue curtain, high outspread,
The tent-roof stretches o'er his silent bed;
And through the dusk, or soft in lunar light,
The starry flag of Freedom gleams by night.
How peacefully he rests! how still and deep,
How sound and breathless his unbroken sleep!
The trumpet's call shall startle him no more;
Nor musket's flash, nor cannon-thunder's roar,
Nor clash of steel, nor foeman's midnight tramp
Shall break the stillness of this solemn camp.
“Peace hath her victories.”—Lo! God's peace is here.
From earth and sky come words of lofty cheer!
A living spirit whispers in the breeze,
A living spirit haunts the rustling trees;
The blithe bird's carol and the floweret's bloom,
The grass-blades quivering round the silent tomb,
The teeming earth, the boundless sky o'erhead,
Proclaim: “God is the God not of the dead,
But of the living,—for to Him all live,
And to His care perpetual witness give!”
Come, ponder here! the silence of the grave
Points to the soul where palms of victory wave.
Bring, then, your flowers, with Nature's tear-drops wet,
And, while the last Spring hours are lingering yet,
Lay them, with tender, reverent love, to grace
The mounds that rise above the resting-place
Where those brave souls have laid earth's armor down,
To wear the spirit's light and lustrous crown.
From earth and sky come words of lofty cheer!
A living spirit whispers in the breeze,
A living spirit haunts the rustling trees;
The blithe bird's carol and the floweret's bloom,
The grass-blades quivering round the silent tomb,
The teeming earth, the boundless sky o'erhead,
Proclaim: “God is the God not of the dead,
But of the living,—for to Him all live,
And to His care perpetual witness give!”
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Points to the soul where palms of victory wave.
Bring, then, your flowers, with Nature's tear-drops wet,
And, while the last Spring hours are lingering yet,
Lay them, with tender, reverent love, to grace
The mounds that rise above the resting-place
Where those brave souls have laid earth's armor down,
To wear the spirit's light and lustrous crown.
Newport, May 31, 1869.
| Poems, original and translated | |