large/7841/battle-pieces_aspects_war_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/battle-pieces_27_melville_64kb_8
large/7841/battle-pieces_aspects_war_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/battle-pieces_27_melville_64kb
English
7841
_Few burial rites shall be; No priest with book and band Shall come to the secret place Of the corpse in the foeman's land._ Watch and fast, march and fight  clutch your gun? Day fights and night fights; sore is the strees; Look, through the pines what line comes on? Longstreet slants through the hauntedness? 'Tis charge for charge, and shout for yell: Such battles on battles oppress   But Heaven lent strength, the Right strove well, And emerged from the Wilderness. FEW BURIAL RITES SHALL BE NO PRIEST WITH BOOK AND BAND SHALL COME TO THE SECRET PLACE OF THE CORPSE IN THE FOEMAN'S LAND WATCH AND FAST MARCH AND FIGHT CLUTCH YOUR GUN DAY FIGHTS AND NIGHT FIGHTS SORE IS THE STRESS LOOK THROUGH THE PINES WHAT LINE COMES ON LONG STREET SLANTS THROUGH THE HAUNTEDNESS TIS CHARGE FOR CHARGE AND SHOUT FOR YELL SUCH BATTLES ON BATTLES OPPRESS BUT HEAVEN LENT STRENGTH THE RIGHT STROVE WELL AND EMERGED FROM THE WILDERNESS
ch. Some start as in dreams, And comrades lost bemoan: By the edge of those wilds Stonewall had charged-- But the Year and the Man were gone. _At the height of their madness The night winds pause, Recollecting themselves; But no lull in these wars._ A gleam!--a volley! And who shall go Storming the swarmers in jungles dread? No cannon-ball answers, no proxies are sent-- They rush in the shrapnel’s stead. Plume and sash are vanities now-- Let them deck the pall of the dead; They go where the shade is, perhaps into Hades, Where the brave of all times have led. _There’s a dust of hurrying feet, Bitten lips and bated breath, And drums that challenge to the grave, And faces fixed, forefeeling death._ What husky huzzahs in the hazy groves-- What flying encounters fell; Pursuer and pursued like ghosts disappear In gloomed shade--their end who shall tell? The crippled, a ragged-barked stick for a crutch, Limp to some elfin dell-- Hobble from the sight of dead faces--white As pebbles in a well. T AND CUTLED UP SKELETON AND SCORES OF SUCH SOME STARTERS IN DREAMS AND COMRADES LOST BEMOAN BY THE EDGE OF THOSE WILD STONE WALL HAD CHARGED BUT THE YEAR AND THE MAN WERE GONE AT THE HEIGHT OF THEIR MADNESS THE NIGHT WINDS PAUSE RECOLLECTING THEMSELVES BUT NO LULL IN THESE WARS A GLEAM A VOLLEY AND WHO SHALL GO STORMING THE SWARMERS AND JUNGLES DREAD NO CANNON BALL ANSWERS NO PROXIES ARE SENT THEY RUSH IN THE SHRAPNEL'S STEAD PLUME AND SASH ARE VANITIES NOW LET THEM DECK THE PALL OF THE DEAD THEY GO WHERE THE SHADE IS PERHAPS INTO HADES WHERE THE BRAVE OF ALL TIMES HAVE LED THERE'S A DUST OF HURRYING FEET BITTEN LIPS AND BATED BREATH AND DRUMS THAT CHALLENGE TO THE GRAVE AND FACES FIXED FOR FEELING DEATH WHAT HUSKY HUZZAARS IN THE HAZY GROVES WHAT FLYING ENCOUNTERS FELL PURSUER AND PURSUED LIKE GHOSTS DISAPPEAR IN GLOOMED SHADE THEIR END WHO SHALL TELL THE CRIPPLED A RAGGED BARKED STICK FOR A CRUTCH LIMP TO SOME ELFIN DELL HOBBLE FROM THE SIGHT OF DEAD FACES WHITE AS PEBBLES IN A WELL
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