Poetry

** O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! **

**Walt Whitman (1819-1892)** || ** O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, **


 * The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won, **


 * The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, **


 * While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; **


 * But O heart! heart! heart! **


 * O the bleeding drops of red, **


 * Where on the deck my Captain lies, **


 * Fallen cold and dead. **
 * O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; **


 * Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills, **


 * For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths--for you the shores **


 * a-crowding, **


 * For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; **


 * Here Captain! dear father! **


 * This arm beneath your head! **


 * It is some dream that on the deck **


 * You've fallen cold and dead. **
 * My captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, **


 * My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, **


 * The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, **


 * From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; **


 * Exult, O shores, and ring O bells! **


 * But I, with mournful tread, **


 * Walk the deck my Captain lies, **


 * Fallen cold and dead. **

** The Blue And The Gray **

** Francis Miles Finch (1827-1907) **
 * By the flow of the inland river, **


 * Whence the fleets of iron have fled, **


 * Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver, **


 * Asleep are the ranks of the dead: **


 * Under the sod and the dew, **


 * Waiting the judgment-day; **


 * Under the one, the Blue, **


 * Under the other, the Gray **
 * These in the robings of glory, **


 * Those in the gloom of defeat, **


 * All with the battle-blood gory, **


 * In the dusk of eternity meet: **


 * Under the sod and the dew, **


 * Waiting the judgement-day **


 * Under the laurel, the Blue, **


 * Under the willow, the Gray. **
 * From the silence of sorrowful hours **


 * The desolate mourners go, **


 * Lovingly laden with flowers **


 * Alike for the friend and the foe; **


 * Under the sod and the dew, **


 * Waiting the judgement-day; **


 * Under the roses, the Blue, **


 * Under the lilies, the Gray. **
 * So with an equal splendor, **


 * The morning sun-rays fall, **


 * With a touch impartially tender, **


 * On the blossoms blooming for all: **


 * Under the sod and the dew, **


 * Waiting the judgment-day; **


 * Broidered with gold, the Blue, **


 * Mellowed with gold, the Gray. **
 * So, when the summer calleth, **


 * On forest and field of grain, **


 * With an equal murmur falleth **


 * The cooling drip of the rain: **


 * Under the sod and the dew, **


 * Waiting the judgment -day, **


 * Wet with the rain, the Blue **


 * Wet with the rain, the Gray. **
 * Sadly, but not with upbraiding, **


 * The generous deed was done, **


 * In the storm of the years that are fading **


 * No braver battle was won: **


 * Under the sod adn the dew, **


 * Waiting the judgment-day; **


 * Under the blossoms, the Blue, **


 * Under the garlands, the Gray **
 * No more shall the war cry sever, **


 * Or the winding rivers be red; **


 * They banish our anger forever **


 * When they laurel the graves of our dead! **


 * Under the sod and the dew, **


 * Waiting the judgment-day, **


 * Love and tears for the Blue, **


 * Tears **


 * and love for the Gray. **

** BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT FOR SISTER CAROLINE **

** Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894) **

|| ** She has gone,-she has left us in passion and pride **


 * Our stormy-browed sister, so long at our side! **


 * She has torn her own star from our firmament's glow, **


 * And turned on her brother the face of a foe! **
 * 0 Caroline, Caroline, child of the sun, **


 * We can never forget that our hearts have been one, **


 * Our foreheads both sprinkled in Liberty's name, **


 * From the fountain of blood with the finger of flame! **
 * You were always too ready to fire at a touch; **


 * But we said: "She is hasty,-she does not mean much." **


 * We have scowled when you uttered some turbulent threat; **


 * But Friendship still whispered: "Forgive and forget!" **
 * Has our love all died out? Have its altars grown cold? **


 * Has the curse come at last which the fathers foretold? **


 * Then Nature must teach us the strength of the chain **


 * That her petulant children would sever in vain. **
 * They may fight till the buzzards are gorged with their spoil, **


 * Till the harvest grows black as it rots in the soil, **


 * Till the wolves and the catamounts troop from their caves, **


 * And the shark tracks the pirate, the lord of the waves: **


 * In vain is the strife! When its fury is past, **


 * Their fortunes must flow in one channel at last, **


 * As the torrents that rush from the mountains of snow **


 * Roll mingled in peace through the valleys below. **
 * Our Union is river, lake, ocean, and sky; **


 * Man breaks not the medal when God cuts the die! **


 * Though darkened with sulfur, though cloven with steel, **


 * The blue arch will brighten, the waters will heal! **


 * O Caroline, Caroline, child of the sun, **


 * There are battles with Fate that can never be won! **


 * The star-flowering banner must never be furled, **


 * For its blossoms of light are the hope of the world! **
 * Go, then, our rash sister! afar and aloof, **


 * Run wild in the sunshine away from our roof, **


 * But when your heart aches and your feet have grown sore, **

** STONEWALL JACKSON'S WAY **
 * Remember the pathway that leads to our door! **

** John Williamson Palmer (1825-1906) ** ** Come, stack arms, men! pile on the rails, **

** Stir up the camp-fire bright; **

** No growling if the canteen fails, **

** We'll make a roaring night. **

** Here Shenandoah brawls along, **

** There burly Blue Ridge echoes strong, **

** To swell the Brigade's rousing song **

** Of "Stonewall Jackson's way." **   ** We see him now-the queer slouched hat **

** Cocked o'er his eye askew; **

** The shrewd, dry smile; the speech so pat, **

** So calm, so blunt, so true. **

** The "Blue-light Elder" knows em well; **

** Says he, "That's Banks-he's fond of shell; **

** Lord save his soul! we'll give him-" well! **

** That's "Stonewall Jackson's way." **   ** Silence! ground arms! kneel all! caps off **

** Old Massa's goin' to pray. **

** Strangle the fool that dares to scoff **

** Attention! it's his way. **

** Appealing from his native sod **

** //In forma pauperis// to God: **

** "Lay bare Thine arm; stretch forth Thy rod! **

** Amen!"---That's "Stonewall's way." **   ** He's in the saddle now. Fall in! **

** Steady! the whole brigade! **

** Hill's at the ford, cut off; we'll win **

** His way out, ball and blade! **

** What matter if our shoes are worn? **

** What matter if our feet are torn? **

** "Quick step! we're with him before morn!" **

** That's "Stonewall Jackson's way." **   ** The sun's bright lances rout the mists **

** Of morning, and, by George! **

** Here's Longstreet, struggling in the lists, **

** Hemmed in an ugly gorge. **

** Pope and his Dutchmen, whipped before; **

** "Bay'nets and grape!" hear Stonewall roar; **

** "Charge, Stuart! Pay off Ashby's score" **

** in "Stonewall Jackson's Way." **   ** Ah, Maiden! wait and watch and yearn **

** For news of Stonewall's band, **

** Ah, widow! read, with eyes that burn, **

** That ring upon thy hand, **

** Ah, Wife! sew on, pray on, hope on; **

** Thy life shall not be all forlorn; **

** The foe had better ne'er been born **

** That gets in "Stonewall's way." **