James and Mary Ford, eds. Every Day in the Year. 1902.
May 30Decoration Day
By Eugene Fitch Ware (Ironquill) (18411911)I
Of the history of Sumter,
How the chorus of the cannon shook its walls;
How the scattered navies gathered,
How the iron-ranked battalions
Rose responsive to the country’s urgent calls.
For the time is still too recent,
How was heard the first vindictive cannon’s peal;
How two brothers stopped debating
On a sad, unsettled question,
And referred it to the arbitrating steel.
Of the somber days that followed—
Stormy days that in such slow succession ran;
Of Antietam, Chickamauga,
Gettysburg, and Murfreesboro’,
Or the rocky, cannon-shaken Rapidan.
It was fought to save the Union,
It was waged for an idea of the right;
And the graves so widely scattered
Show how fruitful an idea
In peace, or war, may be in moral might.
Had it raged in hope of plunder;
Briefer still, had glory been its only aim.
But its long and sad duration
And the graves it has bequeathed us,
Other motives, other principles proclaim.
The invincible idea,
That seemed to hold and save the Nation’s life;
That, resistless and unblenching,
Undisheartened by disaster,
Seemed the soul and inspiration of the strife?
Was that men should all stand equal,
That the world was interested in the fight;
That the present and the future
Were electors who had chosen
Us to argue and decide the case aright.
Those now silent bugles uttered
Will reverberate with ever-glowing tones;
They can never be forgotten,
But will work among the nations
Till they sweep the world of shackles and of thrones.
To the comrades who have fallen—
Meet that we the sadly woven garlands twine.
Where they buried lie is sacred,
Whether ’neath the Northern marble
Or beneath the Southern cypress-tree or pine.
Always living in the future,
Living in their aspirations and their hopes;
Picturing some future greatness,
Reaching forth for future prizes,
With a wish for higher aims and grander scopes.
That they reach for an ideal,
That they give their future nations better lives;
Though the standard be unreal,
Though the hope meets no fulfillment,
Though the fact in empty dreams alone survives.
With the good they have accomplished,
Then they retrograde and slowly sink away.
Give a nation an ideal,
Some grand, noble, central project;
It, like adamant, refuses to decay.
’Tis the duty of the statesman,
To inspire a nation’s life with nobler aims;
And dishonor will o’ershadow
Him who dares not, or who falsely
His immortal-fruited mission misproclaims.