OLD WAR-DREAMS

IN midnight sleep of many a face of anguish,
Of the look at first of the mortally wounded, (of
     that indescribable look,)
Of the dead on their backs with arms extended
     wide,
         I dream, I dream, I dream.

Of scenes of Nature, fields and mountains,
Of skies so beauteous after a storm, and at night
     the moon so unearthly bright,
Shining sweetly, shining down, where we dig the
     trenches and gather the heaps,
         I dream, I dream, I dream.

Long have they pass'd, faces and trenches and fields,
Where through the carnage I moved with a callous
     composure, or away from the fallen,
Onward I sped at the time — but now of
     their forms at night, I dream, I dream, I dream.

1865-6 1881

THICK-SPRINKLED BUNTING

THICK-SPRINKLED bunting! flag of stars!
Long yet your road, fateful flag — long
     yet your road, and lined with bloody death,
For the prize I see at issue at last is the world,
All its ships and shores I see interwoven with
     your threads greedy banner;
Dream'd again the flags of kings, highest borne,
     to flaunt unrival'd?
O hasten flag of man — O with sure and
     steady step, passing highest flags of kings,
Walk supreme to the heavens mighty symbol
     — run up above them all,
Flag of stars! thick-sprinkled bunting!

1865 1871

WHAT BEST I SEE IN THEE

WHAT best I see in thee,
Is not that where thou mov'st down history's great
     highways,
Ever undimm'd by time shoots warlike victory's dazzle,
Or that thou sat'st where Washington sat, ruling the
     land in peace,
Or thou the man whom feudal Europe fêted,
     venerable Asia swarm'd upon,
Who walk'd with kings with even pace the round
     world's promenade;
But that in foreign lands, in all thy walks with kings,
Those prairie sovereigns of the West, Kansas,
     Missouri, Illinois,
Ohio's, Indiana's millions, comrades, farmers,
     soldiers, all to the front,
Invisibly with thee walking with kings with even
     pace the round world's promenade,
Were all so justified.

(1879?) 1881

SPIRIT THAT FORM'D THIS SCENE

SPIRIT that form'd this scene,
These tumbled rock-piles grim and red,
These reckless heaven-ambitious peaks,
These gorges, turbulent-clear streams, this naked
     freshness,
These formless wild arrays, for reasons of their own,
I know thee, savage spirit — we have
     communed together,
Mine too such wild arrays, for reasons of their own;
Was't charged against my chants they had forgotten
     art?
To fuse within themselves its rules precise and
     delicatesse?
The lyrist's measur'd beat, the wrought-out temple's
     grace — column and polish'd arch forgot?
But thou that revelest here — spirit that form'd
     this scene,
They have remember'd thee.

1881 1881

AS I WALK THESE BROAD MAJESTIC DAYS

AS I walk these broad majestic days of peace,
(For the war, the struggle of blood finish'd, wherein,
     O terrific Ideal,
Against vast odds erewhile having gloriously won,
Now thou stridest on, yet perhaps in time toward
     denser wars,
Perhaps to engage in time in still more dreadful
     contests, dangers,
Longer campaigns and crises, labors beyond all
     others,)
Around me I hear that eclat of the world, politics,
     produce,
The announcements of recognized things, science,
The approved growth of cities and the spread of
     inventions.