Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
America: Vols. XXV–XXIX. 1876–79.
The Field of the Grounded Arms
By Fitz-Greene Halleck (17901867)S
Intently, as we gaze on vacancy,
When the mind’s wings o’erspread
The spirit-world of dreams.
Green dwelling of the summer’s first-born Hours,
Whose wakened leaf and bud
Are welcoming the morn.
Smile on the green earth from their home in heaven,
Even as a mother smiles
Above her cradled boy,
O’er sleepless seas of grass whose waves are flowers,
The river’s golden shores,
The forests of dark pines.
The hum of the wild bee, the music wild
Of waves upon the bank,
Of leaves upon the bough.
Beneath her skies of June; then journey on,
A thousand scenes like this
Will greet you ere the eve.
The sunny smile, the music of to-day,
Your thoughts are wandering up,
Far up the stream of time;
Are rushing on your memories, as ye breathe
That valley’s storied name,
Field of the Grounded Arms.
Pride in the gift of country and of name,
Speaks in your eye and step,—
Ye tread your native land.
The solemn sabbath of the week of battle,
Whose tempests bowed to earth
Her foeman’s banner here.
Upon the withered grass that autumn morn,
When, with as withered hearts
And hopes as dead and cold,
Upon that field, in silence and deep gloom,
And at their conqueror’s feet
Laid their war-weapons down.
Brave men, but brave in vain, they yielded there:
The soldier’s trial task
Is not alone “to die.”
Stains not the ermine of his foeman’s fame,
Nor mocks his captive’s doom,—
The bitterest cup of war.