The Walt Whitman Archive
Published Works
Books by Whitman
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View Page 21b
DIRGE FOR TWO VETERANS.
1
THE last sunbeam
| Lightly falls from the finish'd Sabbath, |
| On the pavement here—and there beyond, it is looking, |
Down a new-made double grave.
2
Lo! the moon ascending!
| Up from the east, the silvery round moon; |
| Beautiful over the house-tops, ghastly, phantom moon; |
Immense and silent moon.
3
I see a sad procession,
| And I hear the sound of coming full-key'd bugles; |
| All the channels of the city streets they're flooding, |
As with voices and with tears.
4
I hear the great drums pounding,
| And the small drums steady whirring; |
| And every blow of the great convulsive drums, |
Strikes me through and through.
5
For the son is brought with the father;
| (In the foremost ranks of the fierce assault they fell; |
| Two veterans, son and father, dropt together, |
And the double grave awaits them.)
6
Now nearer blow the bugles,
| And the drums strike more convulsive; |
| And the day-light o'er the pavement quite has faded, |
And the strong dead-march enwraps me.
View Page 22b
7
In the eastern sky up-buoying,
| The sorrowful vast phantom moves illumin'd; |
| ('T is some mother's large, transparent face, |
In heaven brighter growing.)
8
O strong dead-march, you please me!
| O moon immense, with your silvery face you soothe me! |
| O my soldiers twain! O my veterans, passing to burial! |
What I have I also give you.
9
The moon gives you light,
| And the bugles and the drums give you music; |
| And my heart, O my soldiers, my veterans, |
My heart gives you love.
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