large/7841/battle-pieces_aspects_war_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/battle-pieces_27_melville_64kb_36
large/7841/battle-pieces_aspects_war_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/battle-pieces_27_melville_64kb
English
7841
_ The foe that held his guarded hills Must speed to woods afar; For the scheme that was nursed by the Culpepper hearth With the slowly smoked cigar   The scheme that smouldered through winter long Now bursts into act  into war   The resolute scheme of a heart as calm As the Cyclone's core. THE FOE THAT HELD HIS GUARDED HILLS MUST SPEED TO WOODS AFAR FOR THE SCHEME THAT WAS NURSED BY THE CULPEPPER HEARTH WITH THE SLOWLY SMOKED CIGAR THE SCHEME THAT SMOULDERED THROUGH WINTER LONG NOW BURSTS INTO ACT INTO WAR THE RESOLUTE SCHEME OF A HEART AS CALM AS THE CYCLONE'S CORE
ekness and grimness meet in him-- The silent General. _Were men but strong and wise, Honest as Grant, and calm, War would be left to the red and black ants, And the happy world disarm._ That eve a stir was in the camps, Forerunning quiet soon to come Among the streets of beechen huts No more to know the drum. The weed shall choke the lowly door, And foxes peer within the gloom, Till scared perchange by Mosby’s prowling men, Who ride in the rear of doom. _Far West, and farther South, Wherever the sword has been, Deserted camps are met, And desert graves are seen._ The livelong night they ford the flood; With guns held high they silent press, Till shimmers the grass in their bayonets’ sheen-- On Morning’s banks their ranks they dress; Then by the forests lightly wind, Whose waving boughs the pennons seem to bless, Borne by the cavalry scouting on-- Sounding the Wilderness. _Like shoals of fish in spring That visit Crusoe’s isle, The host in the lonesome place-- The hundred thousand file. D LIKE A LOADED MORTAR HE IS STILL MEEKNESS AND GRIMNESS MEET IN HIM THE SILENT GENERAL WERE MEN BUT STRONG AND WISE HONEST IS GRANT AND CALM WAR WOULD BE LEFT TO THE RED AND BLACK ANTS AND THE HAPPY WORLD DISARM THAT EVE A STIR WAS IN THE CAMPS FOR RUNNING QUIET SOON TO COME AMONG THE STREETS OF BEECH AND HUTS NO MORE TO KNOW THE DRUM THE WEEDS SHALL CHOKE THE LOWLY DOOR AND FOXES PEER WITHIN THE GLOOM TILL SCARED PERCHANCE BY MOSEBY'S PROWLING MEN WHO RIDE IN THE REAR OF DOOM FAR WEST AND FARTHER SOUTH WHEREVER THE SWORD HAS BEEN DESERTED CAMPS ARE MET AND DESERT GRAVES ARE SEEN THE LIVELONG NIGHT THEY FORD THE FLOOD WITH GUNS HELD HIGH THEY SILENT PRESS TILL SHIMMERS THE GRASS AND THEIR BAYONETS SHEEN ON MORNING BANKS THEIR RANKS THEY DRESS THEN BY THE FOREST LIGHTLY WIND WHOSE WAVING BOUGHS THE PENNONS SEEM TO BLESS BORNE BY THE CAVALRY SCOUTING ON SOUNDING THE WILDERNESS LIKE SHOALS OF FISH IN SPRING THAT VISIT CRUSOE'S ISLE THE HOST IN THE LONESOME PLACE THE HUNDRED THOUSAND FILE
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