Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
America: Vols. XXV–XXIX. 1876–79.
The Graveyard at West Point
By William Allen Butler (18251902)O
From the loud music and the gay parade,
Where sleeps the graveyard, in its silence, yonder,
Deep in the mountain shade.
Like sentries watching by that camp of Death;
There, like an army’s tents, with snow-white lustre,
The gravestones gleam beneath.
Stays our approach across the level grass,
Nor hostile challenge at the simple wicket
Through which our footsteps pass.
Sacred to peace and thought and calm repose,
Well in thy breast that elder generation
Their place of burial chose.
Moves o’er the plain, with slow and measured tread,
Within thy silent and secure possession
The living leave the dead.
Feeds, with its myriad lives, the hungry Fates,
While hourly funerals, led by grief or pity,
Crowd through the open gates.
Tells of his presence, on these grassy slopes,—
The slab, the stone, the shaft, half reared and broken,
Symbol of shattered hopes.
Fought for their country, and their life-blood poured,
Above whose dust she carves the deathless laurel
Wreathing the victor’s sword.
Borne from the tents which skirt those rocky banks,
Called from life’s daily drill and perilous duty
To these unbroken ranks.
Together hushed, as on His faithful breast,
Who cried, “Come hither, all ye heavy-laden,
And I will give you rest!”
Sown, like the lilies, over forms as fair,
Of whom, to-day, what broken hearts are dreaming,
Through Sabbath song and prayer.
Spring’s early bloom and Summer’s sweet increase,
Fail not, while Nature, on her tender bosom,
Folds them and whispers, Peace!
Beneath,—the river, with its tranquil flood;
Around,—the breezes of the morning, scented
With odors from the wood;
With morn and noon and twilight’s deepening pall;
And overhead,—the infinite heavens, attending
Until the end of all!