Close his 1 eyes; his work is done! What to him is friend or foeman, Rise of moon or set of sun, Hand of man or kiss of woman? Lay him low, lay him low, In the clover or the snow! What cares he? he cannot know; Lay him low! As man may, he fought his fight, Proved his truth by his endeavor; Let him sleep in solemn night, Sleep forever and forever. Lay him low, lay him low, In the clover or the snow! What cares he? he cannot know; Lay him low! Fold him in his country’s stars, Roll the drum and fire the volley! What to him are all our wars?— What but death-bemocking folly? Lay him low, lay him low, In the clover or the snow! What cares he? he cannot know; Lay him low! Leave him to God’s watching eye; Trust him to the hand that made him. Mortal love weeps idly by; God alone has power to aid him. Lay him low, lay him low, In the clover or the snow! What cares he? he cannot know; Lay him low! Note 1. Major-General Philip Kearny. [back]
Dirge for a Soldier
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[May 27, 1863] DARK as the clouds of even, Ranked in the western heaven, Waiting the breath that lifts All the dead mass, and drifts Tempest and falling brand Over a ruined land,— So still and orderly, Arm to arm, knee to knee, Waiting the great event, Stands the black regiment. Down the long... |
Close his 1 eyes; his work is done! What to him is friend or foeman, Rise of moon or set of sun, Hand of man or kiss of woman? Lay him low, lay him low, In the clover or the snow! What cares he? he cannot know; Lay him low! As man may, he fought his fight, Proved his... |
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Close his eyes; his work is done! What to him is friend or foeman, Rise of moon, or set of sun, Hand of man, or kiss of woman? Lay him low, lay him low, In the clover or the snow! What cares he? he cannot know: Lay him low! As man may, he fought his fight, Proved his... |
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I i ’ll call thy frown a headsman, passing grim, Walking before some wretch foredoomed to death, Who counts the pantings of his own hard breath, Wondering how heart can beat, or stead-fast limb Bear its sad burden to life’s awful brim. I ’ll call thy smile a priest, who slowly sayeth Soft words... |