Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A MEDITATION, by HERMAN MELVILLE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: How often in the years that close Last Line: Silent the victors stood, scorning to raise a shout. Subject(s): American Civil War; Funerals; U.s. - History; Burials | ||||||||
ATTRIBUTED TO A NORTHERNER AFTER ATTENDING THE LAST OF TWO FUNERALS FROM THE SAME HOMESTEAD -- THOSE OF A NATIONAL AND A CONFEDERATE OFFICER (BROTHERS) HIS KINSMEN WHO HAD DIED FROM THE EFFECTS OF WOUNDS RECEIVED IN THE CLOSING BATTLES. How often in the years that close, When truce had stilled the sieging gun, The soldiers, mounting on their works, With mutual curious glance have run From face to face along the fronting show, And kinsman spied, or friend -- even in a foe. What thoughts conflicting then were shared, While sacred tenderness perforce Welled from the heart and wet the eye; And something of a strange remorse Rebelled against the sanctioned sin of blood, And Christian wars of natural brotherhood. Then stirred the god within the breast -- The witness that is man's at birth; A deep misgiving undermined Each plea and subterfuge of earth; They felt in that rapt pause, with warning rife, Horror and anguish for the civil strife. Of North or South they recked not then, Warm passion cursed the cause of war: Can Africa pay back this blood Spilt on Potomac's shore? Yet doubts, as pangs, were vain the strife to stay, And hands that fain had clasped again could slay. How frequent in the camp was seen The herald from the hostile one, A guest and frank companion there When the proud formal talk was done; The pipe of peace was smoked even 'mid the war, And fields in Mexico again fought o'er. In Western battle long they lay So near opposed in trench or pit, That foeman unto foeman called As men who screened in tavern sit: "You bravely fight" each to the other said -- "Toss us a biscuit!" o'er the wall it sped. And pale on those same slopes, a boy -- A stormer, bled in noon-day glare; No aid the Blue-coats then could bring, He cried to them who nearest were, And out there came 'mid howling shot and shell A daring foe who him befriended well. Mark the great Captains on both sides, The soldiers with the broad renown -- They all were messmates on the Hudson's marge, Beneath one roof they laid them down; And, free from hate in many an after pass, Strove as in school-boy rivalry of the class. A darker side there is; but doubt In Nature's charity hovers there: If men for new agreement yearn, Then old upbraiding best forbear: "The South's the sinner!" Well, so let it be; But shall the North sin worse, and stand the Pharisee? O, now that brave men yield the sword, Mine be the manful soldier-view; By how much more they boldly warred, By so much more is mercy due: When Vicksburg fell, and the moody files marched out, Silent the victors stood, scorning to raise a shout. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FUNERAL SERMON by ANDREW HUDGINS RETURN FROM DELHI by JOSEPHINE JACOBSEN THE SCATTERING OF EVAN JONES'S ASHES by GALWAY KINNELL BROWNING'S FUNERAL by H. T. MACKENZIE BELL FALLING ASLEEP OVER THE AENEID by ROBERT LOWELL MY FATHER'S BODY by WILLIAM MATTHEWS FORMERLY A SLAVE' (AN IDEALIZED PORTRAIT, BY E. VEDDER) by HERMAN MELVILLE THE COMING STORM' (A PICTURE BY R. S. GIFFORD) by HERMAN MELVILLE A DIRGE FOR MCPHERSON; KILLED IN FRONT OF ATLANTA by HERMAN MELVILLE |
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