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Literature/English Heritage:
Leaves of Grass
87-DELICATE
CLUSTER
Delicate
cluster! flag of teeming life!
Covering
all my lands—all my seashores lining!
Flag of
death! (how I watch’d you through the smoke of battle
pressing!
How I heard
you flap and rustle, cloth defiant!)
Flag
cerulean—sunny flag, with the orbs of night dappled!
Ah my
silvery beauty—ah my woolly white and crimson!
Ah to sing
the song of you, my matron mighty!
My sacred
one, my mother.
88-TO A
CERTAIN CIVILIAN
Did you ask
dulcet rhymes from me?
Did you
seek the civilian’s peaceful and languishing rhymes?
Did you
find what I sang erewhile so hard to follow?
Why I was
not singing erewhile for you to follow, to understand—nor am
I now;
(I have
been born of the same as the war was born,
The
drum-corps’ rattle is ever to me sweet music, I love well
the martial dirge,
With slow
wail and convulsive throb leading the officer’s funeral;)
What to
such as you anyhow such a poet as I? therefore leave my
works,
And go lull
yourself with what you can understand, and with piano-tunes,
For I lull
nobody, and you will never understand me.
89-LO,
VICTRESS ON THE PEAKS
Lo,
Victress on the peaks,
Where thou
with mighty brow regarding the world,
(The world
O Libertad, that vainly conspired against thee,)
Out of its
countless beleaguering toils, after thwarting them all,
Dominant,
with the dazzling sun around thee,
Flauntest
now unharm’d in immortal soundness and bloom—lo, in these
hours supreme,
No poem
proud, I chanting bring to thee, nor mastery’s rapturous
verse,
But a
cluster containing night’s darkness and blood-dripping
wounds,
And psalms
of the dead.
90-ADIEU TO
A SOLDIER
Adieu O
soldier,
You of the
rude campaigning, (which we shared,)
The rapid
march, the life of the camp,
The hot
contention of opposing fronts, the long manoeuvre,
Red battles
with their slaughter, the stimulus, the strong terrific
game,
Spell of
all brave and manly hearts, the trains of time through you
and like of you all fill’d,
With war
and war’s expression.
Adieu dear
comrade,
Your
mission is fulfill’d—but I, more warlike,
Myself and
this contentious soul of mine,
Still on
our own campaigning bound,
Through
untried roads with ambushes opponents lined,
Through
many a sharp defeat and many a crisis, often baffled,
Here
marching, ever marching on, a war fight out—aye here,
To fiercer,
weightier battles give expression.
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