WHILE NOT THE PAST FORGETTING

WHILE not the past forgetting,
To-day, at least, contention sunk entire — peace,
     brotherhood uprisen;
For sign reciprocal our Northern, Southern hands,
Lay on the graves of all dead soldiers, North or South,
(Nor for the past alone — for meanings to the
     future,)
Wreaths of roses and branches of palm.

1888 1888-9

THE DYING VETERAN

AMID these days of order, ease, prosperity,
Amid the current songs of beauty, peace, decorum,
I cast a reminiscence — (likely 'twill offend you,
I heard it in my boyhood;) — More than a
     generation since,
A queer old savage man, a fighter under Washington
     himself,
(Large, brave, cleanly, hot-blooded, no talker, rather
     spiritualistic,
Had fought in the ranks — fought well —
     had been all through the Revolutionary war,)
Lay dying — sons, daughters, church-deacons,
     lovingly tending him,
Sharping their sense, their ears, towards his murmuring,
     half-caught words:
``Let me return again to my war-days,
To the sights and scenes — to forming the line
     of battle,
To the scouts ahead reconnoitering,
To the cannons, the grim artillery,
To the galloping aids, carrying orders,
To the wounded, the fallen, the heat, the suspense,
The perfume strong, the smoke, the deafening noise;
Away with your life of peace! — your joys of
     peace!
Give me my old wild battle-life again!''

(1887) 1888-9

STRONGER LESSONS

HAVE you learn'd lessons only of those who admired
     you, and were tender with you, and stood aside for you?
Have you not learn'd great lessons from those who reject
     you, and brace themselves against you? or who treat
     you with contempt, or dispute the passage with you?

1888 1888-9

A PRAIRIE SUNSET

SHOT gold, maroon and violet, dazzling silver, emerald,
     fawn,
The earth's whole amplitude and Nature's multiform power
     consign'd for once to colors;
The light, the general air possess'd by them — colors
     till now unknown,
No limit, confine — not the Western sky alone
     — the high meridian — North, South, all,
Pure luminous color fighting the silent shadows to the last.

1888 1888-9

TWENTY YEARS

DOWN on the ancient wharf, the sand, I sit, with a new
    -comer chatting:
He shipp'd as green-hand boy, and sail'd away, (took some
     sudden, vehement notion;)
Since, twenty years and more have circled round and round,
While he the globe was circling round and round, —
     and now returns:
How changed the place — all the old land-marks gone
     — the parents dead;
(Yes, he comes back to lay in port for good —
     to settle — has a well-fill'd purse —
     no spot will do but this;)
The little boat that scull'd him from the sloop, now held in
     leash I see,
I hear the slapping waves, the restless keel, the rocking in
     the sand,
I see the sailor kit, the canvas bag, the great box bound
     with brass,
I scan the face all berry-brown and bearded — the
     stout-strong frame,
Dress'd in its russet suit of good Scotch cloth:
(Then what the told-out story of those twenty years? What
     of the future?)

(1887) 1888-9

ORANGE BUDS BY MAIL FROM FLORIDA

(Voltaire closed a famous argument by claiming that a ship of war and the grand opera were proofs enough of civilization's and France's progress, in his day.)

A LESSER proof than old Voltaire's, yet greater,
Proof of this present time, and thee, thy broad expanse,
     America,
To my plain Northern hut, in outside clouds and snow,
Brought safely for a thousand miles o'er