Classic Poem

The lowing cattle leave their stalls, the lambs bleat in the wold;
The poplars don their tasseled caps with tips of burnished gold;
The children in the streets are glad, and speed the hoop and ball,
Ne'er dreaming that a fear or foe could ever on them fall.

The hum of busy wheels is heard, the click of loom and press;
The clearing axe resounds along the opening wilderness;
The air is filled with screaming birds that go from gulf to lake;
And Spring in all the Northern vales is calling: " Rise! Awake! "

The mother sits beside her son and marks his eager joy
In reading how from Ghent to Aix rode the brave Flemish boy;
How one by one the Old Guard fell, pierced through at Waterloo,
With England's flaunting flag of truce full fluttering to their view.

She sees him take his father's sword he wore at Monterey,
When wounded in his good right arm, among the dead he lay;
She notes the hot blood flush his cheek, the glitter in his eye,
And says, " Thank God, no duty calls my boy to bleed or die! "

But hark! from out the South there come such strange and sudden cries
That every lad flings down his bat and stands with frightened eyes;
The mills are hushed; the presses groan; the hammers silent fall;
And fear on all the anxious streets has settled like a pall.

To arms! to arms! to arms! it comes, as when some muttering storm
Along the threatened vales sends first its sullen slow alarm;
To arms! to arms! to arms! it swells, as when the thunders crash
Among the swaying tree-tops where the lurid lightnings flash.

" God keep my boy! " the mother says, and straps his knapsack down,
And sets the drooping cap of blue upon his golden crown;
" God keep my boy! " and by his side she proudly follows on,
Nor fails nor faints, till out of sight the volunteers have gone.

Behold a mighty angel, sifting, sifting as he flies!
The Nation 'tis he sifteth! and behold before him rise
Heroic men and women, whose consecrated prayers
Bring down the heights of victory like links of golden stairs.

March on! march on! the blazing towns are telling where they halt!
March on! march on! the heath their bed, their shelter heaven's vault!
March on! while yet one foe remains to lift an impious hand
And tear the flag of Freedom from one cabin in the land!

Now with the corps of pioneers, the troops a road to hew,
Now leading on the skirmish line, the enemy in view;
Now scaling up the mountain's peak the foot of man ne'er trod,
The soldiers of the Union wage the battles blest of God.

Whiz, whiz , the flying minie-balls like leaden rain sweep on;
Crash, crash , the rattling musketry, and rank by rank is gone;
Roar, roar , the cannon thunders, and the air is black as night;
And upward with the billows float our heroes souls from sight.

" Come hither now, my Captain, and tell, and tell me true,
Where is my boy, my brave, good boy, who marched away with you?
O speak, that I may find him, that upon his mother's breast
He may in all his agony one little moment rest.

" I've brought him, see, some simple things he always liked at home,
Some grapes from our own garden — he will smile to see me come!
Lead on — the moments hasten, and I must be with my boy!
Dead, dead , your face makes answer! Christ be pitiful! " ...Deploy.

Ye soldiers, for the battle! Marshal, march in all your pride,
But, behold, a spirit walketh close by every soldier's side;
And above the paeans rising float the murmurs of the dirge,
As the moaning of the ocean drowns the clamor of the surge.

Oh, ye cannot by your marching give the mother back her son,
Give the maiden back her lover, give the wife her dearest one;
Give the little children calling, when the evening draws apace,
" Papa, papa! Come home, papa! " one more glimpse of his dead face.

But ye may rebuild the altars the despoiler has defiled,
And ye may restrain the sacrifice to idol fierce and wild;
And, as from Sinai's holy height, announce the new command:
" Victoria, Victoria! Freedom shall rule the land! "

Now banners wave, and bugles blow, and woods with song be glad!
The house-tops throng with people, and the streets with joy run mad!
The cheers of Boston proudly up to Bunker Hill arise,
And westward roll and mingle as the Golden Gate replies!

Bring out the gray-haired veterans of Harrison and Clay,
And let them swing their hats once more on this eventful day!
Bring out the Buena Vista guards who stood by Taylor well,
And let them with their gallant cheers the shouts of triumph swell!

Bring out the little children, clad in fleecy robes of white,
To shout, with all their happy souls, their wild and glad delight!
And don't forget a place for those whose mute lips make no sign, —
Joy's sable guests of sorrow, moving slowly into line!

Time may fill all the furrows the cannon-balls have plowed;
May set the robins singing where the bullets whistled loud;
Time may the passion-flower twine o'er rude and ragged grave,
The poppy's flaunting pennons from the prison burrows wave;

Time may set sirens singing where the good old ship sails true, —
But their voices wake no echo in the bosoms of the crew;
Our hearts but beat the truer for the terrors we have past,
And the prophecies of ages live a verity at last.

Bend soft, O skies, above the graves our fallen heroes fill,
In far Potomac marshes, on the heights of Georgia hill,
Where the blue Virginia mountains in their lonely grandeur frown,
Where the tide of Chickamauga flows by fortinvested town!

Blow soft, O winds, around them with your freighted sweets and balm,
And the rhythm of your numbers flowing into song and psalm!
Say the Nation's heart is keeping, in its silent deeps aglow,
All the sacred recollections treasured in the long ago!

Smile soft, O flowers, bending low, like friends with saddened eyes,
Moist with the dear remembrances of saintly sacrifice!
Rise, gracious lily! Multiply, O rose, in regal pride!
Fit emblems of the loyal ones who lived, and loved, and died!

And thou, O flag of Freedom, fan their slumbers where they lie!
At morning toss and flutter, and at midnight float and fly!
Keep guard o'er all thy children as upon the walls they stood,
Baptising for futurity thy folds in crimson blood!

Float on above the living; float on above the dead!
While a hope awaits fruition, while a prayer remains unsaid!
This motto on thy bosom bear to earth's remotest parts:
God keep the Union! Give to all our people loyal hearts!