Classic Poem

IN M EMORIAM

Harken , O hearts! and wonder,
Concerning the days now dead,
Days that were loud with thunder,
And with livid lightnings red —
When the war-drums smote with their rolling
Through the dark, and swords were drawn,
And the clangor of bells, and their tolling,
Rose high in the startled dawn.

Then out from the mist and the morning,
The ships with their dissonance came,
And the challenge of death, and the scorning,
Flashed forth in a blood-red flame;
And the hills, with the sunlight mellow,
And the woods, and the sloping shore,
Heard the great, black guns, as their bellow
Grew deep in a savage roar.

There were kisses, and hands were clasping
That never would meet again;
And the sinews grew stiff in the grasping
Of swords that were free from stain;
And out from the homes, and the tender
Sweet light of a love sublime,
They marched to the gory splendor
That has linked their names with time:
They marched to the blood and the battle,
To the rush and biting of steel,
Their hearts elate with the rattle
Of drums, and the charge's reel;
Marched out in the sunlight, glowing
On plume, and musket, and sword,
To bend and fall in the mowing,
Whose harvest was given the Lord.

Oh, men who were brave and fearless!
Oh, men who were tried and true!
Who toiled, when the days were cheerless,
And the night had nor stars, nor dew;
Who met, when the morn was breaking,
The rush and carnage of war,
And heard the trumpets, awaking
To sleep, and awake no more, —
The grass and the blossoms above you
Are fresh with the light and the rain,
And we bow to your deeds, and love you,
Who answered the call, and were slain.

In the light that has dawned, and the glory,
You live by the death that stung,
When the hillsides were rent and gory,
And the bullets whistled and sung;
When the foeman's steel, and its gleaming,
Was bright in the tasseled corn,
And his banners were widely streaming
Through the cool, wan light of morn;
When up from the shadows and water
He strode in his pomp and might,
And the air grew keen with the slaughter,
And you closed in deadly fight;
Closed, swift as the flash that passes,
And leaves in the sombre gloom
The withered blossoms and grasses,
And the dead who wait the tomb;
And the storm swept by, like the leaping
Of waves when the winds are high,
And left you in peace, and sleeping
Beneath the stars and the sky.

The walls are silent and crumble
With storms, and the weight of years,
That were loud with strife, and the rumble
Of guns, and the rush of cheers,
When your hearts were swift in their beating,
And your eyes were stern and hard,
As the foe sprang on to the meeting,
Over sward, and flinty shard,
Sprang on through the flame-swept spaces,
To the mad and stubborn thrust,
And lay cold, and with blood-stained faces,
Struck down to the bitter dust;
And their comrades came, like the rushing
Of fierce winds that onward sweep,
When great oaks to the ground are crushing,
And the ships sink down the deep, —
Surged over the ramparts, planted
With death and the seeds of death,
While the cannon about them panted
And belched their murderous breath;
And there, when the sun was sinking,
You lay with your sightless eyes,
And the earth and the rocks were drinking
The blood of your sacrifice.

On the rocks where the high wave dashes,
The moon will shine, and the sun;
By war's sanguine carnage and ashes,
The gladness of peace is won;
The smoke cloud of battle, uplifting,
Dissolves in the vast of space,
And the silent white mists go drifting,
Where death ran a fearful race;
And over the graves sweeps the regnant,
Swift glory of resonant days,
Rich with singing of birds, and pregnant
With the joy of jubilant ways.

There are deeds that we cannot banish,
There are thoughts beyond control;
Men build for a day, and they vanish,
But leave us their strength and soul;
And out from the heat, and the flashing
Of light that illumes the storm,
From the thunder's roll and its crashing,
The earth grows royal and warm.

Life comes with the flush, and the golden
Enchantment of sunlit years;
Swept back are the sorrow, and olden
Derision of pain and tears,
When the rain that was swift in falling,
Was dark with the stain of blood,
And men heard the wail, and the calling
Of winds when the tide ran flood;
Heard the sound of musket and sabre,
As they drank at the well of life,
And ended their passion and labor,
When the earth was wild with strife;
Saw the sulphurous war cloud bursting
Where the waves ran up the shore,
And the guns, with their black mouths thirsting
For the kiss of flame once more;
And the darkness grew, and the hollow,
Hoarse growl of the fight was still,
And the cold, grim night seemed to follow
The foe speeding down the hill;
And silent and sweet was their slumber,
Whose turmoil and toil was done,
And the graves grew many in number
Beneath the light and the sun.

From the throes that led to creation,
From silence, and gloomful toil,
Came the soul and strength of a Nation,
Wrought out by battle and spoil.
Ah, the years are swift in their passing,
And they change, like tides that roll
Where the rocks, in dark grandeur massing
Meet the surges from the Pole;
Yes, they pass, but they leave behind them
The good Love wins, and the song;
If you seek their steps, you will find them
Where purpose and thought grow strong;
And time is a force that is blending
With life, in the work of God,
And the way they tread is unending,
Like those by the great spheres trod.
Men die, but their deeds are eternal,
To our hearts and love they cling;
They shine like the stars, and the vernal
Sweet blossoms that May days bring.

From the sea, with its great white beaches —
From the plains with wheat agleam —
From the mountain, whose pine-clad reaches
Gloom down on the foaming stream; —
From the river, so swiftly flowing
By forest and busy town, —
From the cool, wide vales, that are showing
The gold of their harvest crown: —
From the rocks where the ocean surges
Dash high on New England's shore, —
And from slopes, where the wind-made dirges
Far up with the eagles soar,
Sound the words that are like the ringing
Of bells, when a people come,
Through the glorious sunlight, bringing
Their heroes in triumph home.
For yours are the deeds that we cherish,
Who died that we might be free,
And your memory cannot perish
While the land is kissed by the sea.