Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ASHES OF SOLDIERS, by WALT WHITMAN Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Ashes of soldiers south or north Last Line: For the ashes of all dead soldiers south or north. Subject(s): American Civil War; U.s. - History | ||||||||
Ashes of soldiers South or North, As I muse retrospective murmuring a chant in thought, The war resumes, again to my sense your shapes, And again the advance of the armies. Noiseless as mists and vapors, From their graves in the trenches ascending, From cemeteries all through Virginia and Tennessee, From every point of the compass out of the countless graves, In wafted clouds, in myriads large, or squads of twos or threes or single ones they come, And silently gather round me. Now sound no note O trumpeters, Not at the head of my cavalry parading on spirited horses, With sabres drawn and glistening, and carbines by their thighs, (ah my brave horsemen! My handsome tan-faced horsemen! what life, what joy and pride, With all the perils were yours.) Nor you drummers, neither at reveille at dawn, Nor the long roll alarming the camp, nor even the muffled beat for a burial, Nothing from you this time O drummers bearing my warlike drums. But aside from these and the marts of wealth and the crowded promenade, Admitting around me comrades close unseen by the rest and voiceless, The slain elate and alive again, the dust and debris alive, I chant this chant of my silent soul in the name of all dead soldiers. Faces so pale with wondrous eyes, very dear, gather closer yet, Draw close, but speak not. Phantoms of countless lost, Invisible to the rest henceforth become my companions, Follow me ever -- desert me not while I live. Sweet are the blooming cheeks of the living -- sweet are the musical voices sounding, But sweet, ah sweet, are the dead with their silent eyes. Dearest comrades, all is over and long gone, But love is not over -- and what love, O comrades Perfume from battle-fields rising, up from the foetor arising. Perfume therefore my chant, O love, immortal love, Give me to bathe the memories of all dead soldiers, Shroud them, embalm them, cover them all over with tender pride. Perfume all -- make all wholesome, Make these ashes to nourish and blossom, O love, solve all, fructify all with the last chemistry. Give me exhaustless, make me a fountain, That I exhale love from me wherever I go like a moist perennial dew, For the ashes of all dead soldiers South or North. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLD OSAWATOMIE by CARL SANDBURG THE BONNIE BLUE FLAG by HARRY MACARTHY LEE'S PAROLE by MARION MANVILLE THE SURRENDER OF NEW ORLEANS by MARION MANVILLE THE LITTLE ODYSSEY OF JASON QUINT, OF SCIENCE, DOCTOR by THOMAS MCGRATH A CANTICLE: SIGNIFICANT OF NATIONAL EXALTATION CLOSE OF WAR by HERMAN MELVILLE A GRAVE NEAR PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA by HERMAN MELVILLE A BROADWAY PAGEANT by WALT WHITMAN |
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