Thou of the tawny flowing hair in battle, I erewhile saw, with erect head, pressing ever in front, bearing a bright sword in thy hand, Now ending well in death the splendid fever of thy deeds (I bring no dirge for it or thee, I bring a glad triumphal sonnet), Desperate and glorious, aye in defeat most desperate, most glorious, After thy many battles in which never yielding up a gun or a colour, Leaving behind thee a memory sweet to soldiers, Thou yieldest up thyself. OLD WAR-DREAMS In midnight sleep of many a face of anguish, Of the look at first of the mortally wounded (of that indescribable look), Of the dead on their backs with arms extended wide, I dream, I dream, I dream. Of scenes of Nature, fields and mountains, Of skies so beauteous after a storm, and at night the moon so unearthly bright, Shining sweetly, shining down, where we dig the trenches and gather the heaps, I dream, I dream, I dream. Long have they pass'd, faces and trenches and fields, Where through the carnage I moved with a callous composure, or away from the fallen, Onward I sped at the time--but now of their forms at night, I dream, I dream, I dream. DELICATE CLUSTER Delicate cluster! flag of teeming life! Covering all my lands--all my seashores lining! Flag of death! (how I watch'd you through the smoke of battle pressing! How I heard you flap and rustle, cloth defiant!) Flag cerulean--sunny flag, with the orbs of night dappled! Ah my silvery beauty--ah my woolly white and crimson! Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty! My sacred one, my mother! TO A CERTAIN CIVILIAN Did you ask dulcet rhymes from me? Did you seek the civilian's peaceful and languishing rhymes? Did you find what I sang erewhile so hard to follow? Why I was not singing erewhile for you to follow, to understand--nor am I now; (I have been born of the same as the war was born, The drum-corps' rattle is ever to me sweet music, I love well the martial dirge, With slow wail and convulsive throb leading the officer's funeral); What to such as you anyhow such a poet as I? therefore leave my works, And go lull yourself with what you can understand, and with piano-tunes, For I lull nobody, and you will never understand me. ADIEU TO A SOLDIER Adieu O soldier, You of the rude campaigning (which we shared), The rapid march, the life of the camp, The hot contention of opposing fronts, the long manoeuvre, Red battles with their slaughter, the stimulus, the strong terrific game, Spell of all brave and manly hearts, the trains of time through you and like of you all fill'd, With war and war's expression.