Part 13 (1/2)

A MEDITATION

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 G.o.d 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 reeked not then, Warm pa.s.sion cursed the cause of war: Can Africa pay back this blood Spilt on Potomac's sh.o.r.e?

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 sh.e.l.l 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 pa.s.s, Strove as in school-boy rivalry of the cla.s.s.

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.

Poems From Mardi

WE FISH

We fish, we fish, we merrily swim, We care not for friend nor for foe.

Our fins are stout, Our tails are out, As through the seas we go.

Fish, Fish, we are fish with red gills; Naught disturbs us, our blood is at zero: We are buoyant because of our bags, Being many, each fish is a hero.

We care not what is it, this life That we follow, this phantom unknown; To swim, it's exceedingly pleasant,-- So swim away, making a foam.

This strange looking thing by our side, Not for safety, around it we flee:-- Its shadow's so shady, that's all,-- We only swim under its lee.

And as for the eels there above, And as for the fowls of the air, We care not for them nor their ways, As we cheerily glide afar!

We fish, we fish, we merrily swim, We care not for friend nor for foe: Our fins are stout, Our tails are out, As through the seas we go.

INVOCATION

Ha, ha, G.o.ds and kings; fill high, one and all; Drink, drink! shout and drink! mad respond to the call!

Fill fast, and fill full; 'gainst the goblet ne'er sin; Quaff there, at high tide, to the uttermost rim:-- Flood-tide, and soul-tide to the brim!