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Leaves of Grass (1856)
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16—Poem of The Dead Young Men of Europe, The 72d and 73d Years of These States
SUDDENLY out of its stale and drowsy lair,
the lair of slaves,
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Like lightning Europe le'pt forth, half startled at
itself,
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Its feet upon the ashes and the rags, its hands
tight to the throats of kings.
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O hope and faith! O aching close of lives! O
many a sickened heart!
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Turn back unto this day, and make yourselves
afresh.
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And you, paid to defile the People! you liars,
mark!
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| Not for numberless agonies, murders, lusts, |
For court thieving in its manifold mean forms,
worming from his simplicity the poor man's
wages,
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For many a promise sworn by royal lips, and
broken, and laughed at in the breaking,
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Then in their power, not for all these did the
blows strike of personal revenge, or the heads
of the nobles fall,
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| The People scorned the ferocity of kings. |
But the sweetness of mercy brewed bitter destruc-
tion, and the frightened rulers come back,
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Each comes in state with his train, hangman,
priest, tax-gatherer, soldier, lawyer, jailer,
sycophant.
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Vague as the night, draped interminably, head
front and form, in scarlet folds,
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| Whose face and eyes none may see, |
Out of its robes only this—the red robes, lifted
by the arm,
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One finger, pointed high over the top, like the
head of a snake appears.
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Meanwhile, corpses lie in new-made graves —
bloody corpses of young men;
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The rope of the gibbet hangs heavily, the bullets
of princes are flying, the creatures of power
laugh aloud,
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And all these things bear fruits, and they are
good.
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| Those corpses of young men, |
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Those martyrs that hang from the gibbets, those
hearts pierced by the gray lead,
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Cold and motionless as they seem, live elsewhere
with unslaughter'd vitality.
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| They live in other young men, O kings! |
| They live in brothers, again ready to defy you! |
They were purified by death—they were taught
and exalted.
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Not a grave of the murdered for freedom, but
grows seed for freedom, in its turn to bear
seed,
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Which the winds carry afar and re-sow, and the
rains and the snows nourish.
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Not a disembodied spirit can the weapons of
tyrants let loose,
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But it stalks invisibly over the earth, whispering,
counseling, cautioning.
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Liberty! let others despair of you! I never despair
of you.
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| Is the house shut? Is the master away? |
| Nevertheless be ready—be not weary of watching, |
| He will soon return—his messengers come anon. |
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