 | The Triangular Society |  |
236
WOUNDED.
June's loving presence fills these green-arched glooms;
From broad-leaved branches, drooping cool and low,
Drop down the purple-veined catalpa-blooms,
Chasing each other lightly to and fro,
As dainty as new snow.
From broad-leaved branches, drooping cool and low,
Drop down the purple-veined catalpa-blooms,
Chasing each other lightly to and fro,
As dainty as new snow.
The great ripe roses nodding by the way,
Drunken and drowsy with their own perfume,
Heed not that bee and butterfly all day
Make in their very hearts a banquet-room,
And rob their royal bloom.
Drunken and drowsy with their own perfume,
Heed not that bee and butterfly all day
Make in their very hearts a banquet-room,
And rob their royal bloom.
The chestnut lights her mimic chandeliers,
The tulip-tree uplifts her goblets high,
The pine and fir shed balmy incense-tears,
And the magnolia's thick white petals lie
Expiring fragrantly.
The tulip-tree uplifts her goblets high,
The pine and fir shed balmy incense-tears,
And the magnolia's thick white petals lie
Expiring fragrantly.
The silver poplar's pearl-and-emerald sheen
Glimmers incessant, shadowing the eaves;
The willow's wide, fair fountain-fall of green
Whispers like rain; a pulse of gladness heaves
The world of waving leaves.
Glimmers incessant, shadowing the eaves;
The willow's wide, fair fountain-fall of green
Whispers like rain; a pulse of gladness heaves
The world of waving leaves.
237
In yonder room that fronts the dusty street,
Hushed and white-bedded, curtained cool and dim,
There lies as brave a heart as ever beat,
Bound down and tortured by a shattered limb—
Ah! what is June to him?
Hushed and white-bedded, curtained cool and dim,
There lies as brave a heart as ever beat,
Bound down and tortured by a shattered limb—
Ah! what is June to him?
To him, poor homesick sufferer, how fair
Would be this wealth of bloom, this sunny sky,
These gushing sparrow-songs, this gracious air!
Yet he, with stronger right to all than I,
Pines in captivity.
Would be this wealth of bloom, this sunny sky,
These gushing sparrow-songs, this gracious air!
Yet he, with stronger right to all than I,
Pines in captivity.
With breath of cannon hot upon his brow,
In glorious strife it had been sweet to die;
But no ennobling purpose fires him now;
His soul is nerved by no proud battle-cry
To this long agony.
In glorious strife it had been sweet to die;
But no ennobling purpose fires him now;
His soul is nerved by no proud battle-cry
To this long agony.
What was the boldest charge, the bloodiest fight,
The wildest rally over heaps of slain,
To this unequal contest, day and night,
With the fierce legions of disease and pain,
Repulsed so oft in vain?
The wildest rally over heaps of slain,
To this unequal contest, day and night,
With the fierce legions of disease and pain,
Repulsed so oft in vain?
Heroic was the bravery that inspired
His heart to daring deeds; but nobler still
This bravery of strong patience, which, untired,
Waits calmly, while the tedious months fulfil
Their work of good or ill.
His heart to daring deeds; but nobler still
This bravery of strong patience, which, untired,
Waits calmly, while the tedious months fulfil
Their work of good or ill.
Sacred we hold their names, who in the strife
Of righteous war—our nation's noblest sons—
Have done their work and given up their life
Amid the smoke and thunder of the guns,
Beloved and honored ones!
Of righteous war—our nation's noblest sons—
Have done their work and given up their life
Amid the smoke and thunder of the guns,
Beloved and honored ones!
238
And thou, brave heart, although no trumpet breath
Proclaims thee martyr, yet thy name shall be
Hallowed as these; for even more than death
O hero, hast thou suffered patiently
For right and liberty!
Proclaims thee martyr, yet thy name shall be
Hallowed as these; for even more than death
O hero, hast thou suffered patiently
For right and liberty!
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