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Leaves of Grass (1891-92)
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DIRGE FOR TWO VETERANS.
Lightly falls from the finish'd Sabbath, |
On the pavement here, and there beyond it is looking, |
Down a new-made double grave. |
Up from the east the silvery round moon, |
Beautiful over the house-tops, ghastly, phantom moon, |
And I hear the sound of coming full-key'd bugles, |
All the channels of the city streets they're flooding, |
As with voices and with tears. |
I hear the great drums pounding, |
And the small drums steady whirring, |
And every blow of the great convulsive drums, |
Strikes me through and through. |
For the son is brought with the father, |
(In the foremost ranks of the fierce assault they fell, |
Two veterans son and father dropt together, |
And the double grave awaits them.) |
Now nearer blow the bugles, |
And the drums strike more convulsive, |
And the daylight o'er the pavement quite has faded, |
And the strong dead-march enwraps me. |
In the eastern sky up-buoying, |
The sorrowful vast phantom moves illumin'd, |
('Tis some mother's large transparent face, |
In heaven brighter growing.) |
O strong dead-march you please me! |
O moon immense with your silvery face you soothe me! |
O my soldiers twain! O my veterans passing to burial! |
What I have I also give you. |
The moon gives you light, |
And the bugles and the drums give you music, |
And my heart, O my soldiers, my veterans, |
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