American poetry; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Poetry
New England’s seamen swelled the rallying cry
Along the coasts; the Middle States replied
From thronging marts; the echoes leaped along
The Mississippi Valley, whose vast floods
Throb like the pulses of the Nation’s heart,
And pale Virginia, all besprinkled now
With War’s red baptism, to Kentucky spoke;
Kentucky, tried but faithful unto death,
To sad Missouri called; Missouri passed
The kindling watchword to the vast Northwest,
Ohio, Indiana, Illinois,
Who louder sang than Niagara’s roar
To the unconquered heights of Tennessee;
Hoarse echoes, like the low sepulchral moan
Of subterranean fires, disturbed the Gulf--
The bleeding Gulf betrayed and overawed--
Then swelling loud as an Archangel’s trump,
Or shrill winds piping o’er the stormy flood,
It thundered back from far Pacific’s coast.
Come to the tombs by mourning millions thronged
Beneath the oak of weeping. Glorious dead,
Fame’s cemetery holds no hero dust
More dearly honored in sublime repose.
Pale ashes, with a nation’s tears bedewed,
And fanned by sighs as numerous as the winds,
The laurels that you nurture shall be green
And bloom forever round the precious urns
Of Baker and Lyon. Fortune smiled
Upon them, casting from her ample lap,
Her lavish stores of fame and wealth and ease,
And wooed them to repose. Though sweet her song,
She sang unheeded. Honor, fortune, life
They offered freely on their country’s shrine,
In the red heat and fury of the fight,
Deeming the dearest jewels of the world
Were nought when weighed against the nation’s life.
DIRGE.
He who led our faltering ranks
Up the ambuscaded banks--
He who poured his heart’s red rain
Over Springfield’s stormy plain,
Heeding not the volleys deadly
Nor the life’s blood running redly,
Cold in death shall lead no more
Where our country’s eagles soar.
Such, oh War, thy fearful pleasure,
Priceless blood and costliest treasure,
Still the victims whom thou smitest
Are the loveliest and the brightest.
But the martyrs shall be glorious
When our flag returns victorious;
Death, who seals such patriot eyes,
Opens them in Paradise.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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