In civil war or fratricide is found No place for such as seek a middle ground. Though lines of demarcation intervene, No peaceful neutral zone may lie between. 'Tis not an easy thing to breast the tide Of public sentiment, and to decide In opposition, though the cause be right, When crossing public sentiment means fight. 'Tis easier to let the moving throng Without resistance carry you along. When he who hesitates, or turns around, May in the grist of public wrath be ground. But men there are you cannot drive in flocks; They dash like breakers, or resist like rocks. Within my breast I fought my sternest fight, I could not view the southern cause as right, And yet I loved the people of the south; Debating thus I opened not my mouth. Both in my waking hours and in my dreams, I heard the arguments of two extremes. My conscience said: 'A uniform of blue Awaits your coming, wear it and be true.' My interests argued: 'Though the cause be wrong, Your people have espoused it right along. Your worthy family has for many years Seen sorrow only in the white man's tears. Desertion means to wear the traitor's brands, And face your friends with muskets in their hands, To slay them with the bayonet and ball, Or by, perhaps, your brother's hand to fall.' I heard the clarion accents of the fife Fan into flames the dormant coals of strife. With blast prophetic and reverberant swell, I heard the bugle's echoing voice foretell The coming conflict, while the brazen notes Were answered by the cheers from many throats. I heard the measured rattle of the drum, Proclaiming that the day of wrath had come. I heard harangues, incendiary and loud, Meet with the approbation of the crowd. I saw the faltering and irresolute, Greeted with jeer and deprecating hoot. I saw the threatening clouds of war increase, Yet prayed for peace, where there could be no peace. The winds of slavery their seed had sown; That seed to rank maturity had grown; The cup was full, and now from branch and root, The whirlwind came to strip its lawful fruit. I saw my friends and neighbors march away With martial tread, in uniforms of gray. I saw them raise their caps in passing by And fair hands wave their kerchiefs in reply. Then I, who had in military schools Received some insight into army rules, And, being of a martial turn of mind, Was offered a commission, and,--declined. My declination was a shock to all, 'Coward!' said they, 'to shun your country's call,-- Then stay at home, from wounds and scars exempt, But pay the price,--your former friends' contempt.'