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ASHES OF SOLDIERS.


1  ASHES of soldiers!
As I muse, retrospective, murmuring a chant in thought,
Lo! The war resumes—again to my sense your shapes,
And again the advance of the armies.

2  Noiseless as mists and vapors,
From their graves in the trenches ascending,
From their cemeteries all through Virginia and Ten-
         nessee,
From every point of the compass, out of the countless
         unnamed graves,
In wafted clouds, in myriads large, or squads of twos
         or threes, or single ones, they come,
And silently gather round me.

3  Now sound no note, O trumpeters,
Not at the head of my cavalry, parading on spirited
         horses,
With sabres drawn and glist'ning, and carbines by
         their thighs, (ah my brave horsemen!

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My handsome, tan-faced horsemen! what life, what joy
         and pride,
With all the perils, were yours!)

4  Nor you drummers—neither at reveillé at dawn,
Nor the long roll alarming the camp—nor even the
         muffled beat for a burial;
Nothing from you this time, O drummers, bearing my
         warlike drums.

5  But aside from these, and the marts of wealth, and
         the crowded promenade,
Admitting around me comrades close, unseen by the
         rest and voiceless,
The slain elate and alive again—the dust and debris
         alive,
I chant this chant of my silent soul in the name of all
         dead soldiers.

6  Faces so pale, with wondrous eyes, very dear, gather
         closer yet;
Draw close, but speak not.

7  Phantoms of countless lost,
Invisible to the rest henceforth become my compan-
         ions!
Follow me ever—desert me not while I live.

8  Sweet are the blooming cheeks of the living! sweet
         are the musical voices sounding!
But sweet, ah sweet, are the dead with their silent eyes.

9  Dearest comrades! all is over and long gone;
But love is not over—and what love, O comrades!
Perfume from battle-fields rising—up from the foetor
         arising.

10  Perfume therefore my chant, O love! immortal Love!
Give me to bathe the memories of all dead soldiers,
Shroud them, embalm them, cover them all over with
         tender pride.

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11  Perfume all! make all wholesome!
Make these ashes to nourish and blossom,
O love! O chant! solve all, fructify all with the last
         chemistry.

12  Give me exhaustless—make me a fountain,
That I exhale love from me wherever I go like a moist
         perennial dew,
For the ashes of all dead soldiers.
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