Songs of this War

One noonday, at my window in the town,
    I saw a sight -- saddest that eyes can see --
    Young soldiers marching lustily
      Unto the wars,
With fifes, and flags in mottoed pageantry;
      While all the porches, walks, and doors
Were rich with ladies cheering royally.
  
They moved like June morning on the wave,
  Their hearts were fresh as clover in its prime
  (It was the breezy summer time),
       Life throbbed so strong,
How should they dream that Death in a rosy clime
  Would come to thin their shining throng?
Youth feels immortal, like the gods sublime.

Weeks passed; and at my window, leaving bed,
    By night I mused, of easeful sleep bereft,
    On those brave boys (Ah War! thy theft);
      Some marching feet
Found pause at last by cliffs Potomac cleft;
     Wakeful I mused, while in the street
Far footfalls died away till none were left.

The damaged gun boats can't wage fight 
For days; so says the Commodore.
Thus no diversion can be had.
Under a sunless sky of lead 
  Our grim-faced boys in blackened plight 
Gaze toward the ground they held before,
And then on Grant. He marks their mood,
And hails it, and will turn the same to good.
Spite all that they have undergone,
Their desperate hearts are set upon 
This winter fort, this stubborn fort,
This castle of the last resort,
     This Donelson.

Skimming lightly, wheeling still,
  The swallows fly low
Over the fields in clouded days,
  The forest-field of Shiloh --
Over the field where April rain
Solaced the parched ones stretched in pain
Through the pause of night
That followed the Sunday fight
  Around the church of Shiloh --
The church, so lone, the log-built one,
That echoed to many a parting groan
      And natural prayer
  Of dying foemen mingled there --
Foemen at morn, but friends at eve --
  Fame or country least their care:
(What like a bullet can undeceive!)
  But now they lie low,
While over them the swallows skim,
  And all is hushed at Shiloh.

What mean these peals from every tower,
  And crowds like seas that sway?
The cannon reply; they speak the heart 
  Of the People impassioned, and say -- 
A city in flags for a city in flames,
  Richmond goes Babylon's way --
          Sing and pray.

O weary years and woeful wars,
  And armies in the grave;
But hearts unquelled at last deter 
The helmed dilated Lucifer --
  Honor to Grant the brave,
Whose three stars now like Orion's rise
  When wreck is on the wave --
        Bless his glaive.

Well that the faith we firmly kept,
  And never our aim forswore 
For the Terrors that trooped from each recess 
When fainting we fought in the Wilderness,
  And Hell made loud hurrah;
But God is in Heaven, and Grant in the Town,
  And Right through might is Law --
        God's way adore.

What power disbands the Northern Lights 
  After their steely play? 
The lonely watcher feels an awe 
  Of Nature's sway, 
    As when appearing, 
    He marked their flashed uprearing 
In the cold gloom -- 
  Retreatings and advancings, 
(Like dallyings of doom),
  Transitions and enhancings, 
    And bloody ray. 

The phantom-host has faded quite, 
  Splendor and Terror gone --
Portent or promise -- and gives way 
  To pale, meek Dawn; 
    The coming, going, 
    Alike in wonder showing -- 
Alike the God, 
  Decreeing and commanding 
The million blades that glowed, 
  The muster and disbanding -- 
    Midnight and Morn.

The grass shall never forget this grave.
When homeward footing it in the sun
  After the weary ride by rail,
The stripling soldiers passed her door,
  Wounded perchance, or wan and pale,
She left her household work undone --
Duly the wayside table spread,
  With evergreens shaded to regale
Each travel-spent and grateful one.
So warm her heart -- childless -- unwed,
Who like a mother comforted.