 | Poems of the war |  |
7
INVOCATION.
O country, bleeding from the heart,
If these poor songs can touch thy woe,
And draw thee but awhile apart
From sorrow's bitter overflow,
Then not in vain
This feeble strain
About the common air shall blow.
If these poor songs can touch thy woe,
And draw thee but awhile apart
From sorrow's bitter overflow,
Then not in vain
This feeble strain
About the common air shall blow.
As David stood by prostrate Saul,
So wait I at thy sacred feet:
I reverently raise thy pall,
To see thy mighty bosom beat.
I would not wrong
Thy grief with song;
I would but utter what is meet.
So wait I at thy sacred feet:
I reverently raise thy pall,
To see thy mighty bosom beat.
I would not wrong
Thy grief with song;
I would but utter what is meet.
8
Arise, O giant! Lo, the day
Flows hither from the gates of light.
The dreams, that struck thee with dismay,
Were shadows of distempered night.
'T is just to mourn
What thou hast borne;
But yet the future has its right.
Flows hither from the gates of light.
The dreams, that struck thee with dismay,
Were shadows of distempered night.
'T is just to mourn
What thou hast borne;
But yet the future has its right.
A glory, greater than the lot
Foretold by prophets, is to be;
A fame without the odious blot
Upon thy title to be free,—
The jeer of foes,
The woe of woes,
God's curse and sorrow over thee.
Foretold by prophets, is to be;
A fame without the odious blot
Upon thy title to be free,—
The jeer of foes,
The woe of woes,
God's curse and sorrow over thee.
Above the nations of the earth
Erect thee, prouder than before!
Consider well the trial's worth,
And let the passing tempest roar!
It spends its shock
Upon a rock:
Thou shalt outlive a thousand more.
Erect thee, prouder than before!
Consider well the trial's worth,
And let the passing tempest roar!
9
Upon a rock:
Thou shalt outlive a thousand more.
Through tears and blood I saw a gleam,
Through all the battle-smoke it shone;
A voice I heard that drowned the scream
Of widows and the orphans' moan:
An awful voice
That cried, “Rejoice!”
A light outbreaking from God's throne.
Through all the battle-smoke it shone;
A voice I heard that drowned the scream
Of widows and the orphans' moan:
An awful voice
That cried, “Rejoice!”
A light outbreaking from God's throne.
| Poems of the war | |