University of Iowa
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Theses and Dissertations
1912
The poetry of the Civil War
Julien H. Gist
State University of Iowa
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Gist, Julien H.. "The poetry of the Civil War." MA (Master of Arts) thesis, State University of Iowa, 1912.
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THE POETRY OF THE C IVIL WAR.
A th esis
submitted to the faculty
of the Graduate College of th e State
University of Iowa in partial
fulfillment of the requirements for
the degree of Master of Arts.
By
Julian H. Gist.
June 1 , 1912.
BIBLIOGRAPHY.
Army Ballads and Other Poems; by Arthur T. Lee, U. S. A.
^
•
Patriotic Poems; by Francis de Haes Janvier.
South Songs from the Lays of Later Days; by T. C. D e Leon.
A Selection of War Lyrics; by P. 0. C. Darley.
On Southern Poetry prior to 1860; by S. E. Bradshaw.
Poetical Pen-Pictures of the War; by J. Henry Hayward.
The Golden Treasury of American Songs and Lyrics; b y P. L. Knowles.
War Lyrics and Songs of the South; published in England--Anon.
Leaves from the Battle-Field; by Mrs. Edmund A. Souder.
American War Ballads and Lyrics; by George Cary Eggleston.
American Poems, lfTe-l^OO; by Augustus White Long.
The Romance of the Civil War; by Albert Bushnell Hart.
Photographic History of the Civil War, Vol. IX, "Poetry and
Eloquence;."
Poetry of the Civil War; by Richard Grant White.
Poetry of the People; by C. M. Gayley and M. C. Flaherty.
Songs and Ballads of the Southern People, 1861-1865; by Frank Moore.
Patriotism in Poetry and Prose; by James E. Murdoch.
Idylls of Battle and Poems of the Rebellion; by Howard Glyndon.
Harper's Pictorial History of the War.
Bound volumes of "The Century," "The Independent," and other
magazines.
Current newspapers and magazines.
Various historical and biographical books.
The Poetry of the Civil W a r .
In one of Charles Reade's "books we find the following state­
ment:
"Gunpowder has spoiled war. War was always detrimental to the
solid interests of mankind. But in old times it was good for some­
thing: it painted well, sang divinely, furnished Iliads. But
invisible butchery, under a pall of smoke a furlong thick, who is
any the better for that?"
The statement is interesting, though it is hard to agree with
it fully. It is true that war, fought under modern conditions, has
as yet given us no supreme work of art like the Greek Iliad. But
whether the fact is due, as Reade suggests, to the physical changes
that have come over war, is a matter that may be questioned. After
all there is but one Iliad, and perhaps it was Greek imagination
and Greek genius for composition, rather than the Greek method of
eombat, which had most to do with furnishing it. War with the rifle
and cannon may be a trifle less picturesque than war with the bow
and spear, and the old-time glamour of war may, in a measure, be
lost. Iven this is doubtful. Yet modern history goes to show that
war is still a power to be reckoned with in literature; that the'
theme of war is still capable of poetic and artistic handling. War,
when it occurs to-day, is usually prolific of literary writing, and
most recent wars, like the wars of our own country, have left epit­
omes in the form of more or less so-ealled occasional verse.
A striking fact with regard to the poems of the Civil War is to
be seen in the large number of separate pieces that appeared. Includ­
ing in our study both the poetry that appeared contemporary with the
years 1861 to 1865 and that which relates to the war but appeared
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subsequently, it will "be noted that the total quantity is too great
for any estimate to be made of it. Several good collections of the
poems have been edited. Such collections, however, merely afford
specimens, and no collection aims at being comprehensive. Taken
together the different volumes comprise but a fraction of the
entire poetry of the war. Many of the poems will be found in the
bound volumes of different magazines issued during or since the war.
■
Others are submerged in the files of daily newspapers and transient
country journals. Presumably a great many poems were composed which
were never printed. During the war two several volumes of poems were
gotten out b y a benevolent organization known as ’’The Union Home and
School." The second volume, which was published in 1864, contains
268 poems, all of them the work of Northern composers during the
first two years of the war. In the preface the editor states that
the published pieces were selected from no less than four thousand
specimens which he had succeeded in gathering together. It is
assumed that he means to include in this number only poems of
Northern origin. We ean form from this some idea of the immense
number of poems that must have been composed in the North and South
during the four years of the war and in post-bellum years.
In the Forth more poems were written than in the South. Also
the Northern poems are, on the whole, of a better quality. These
facts can be explained on two or three grounds. In the first place,
the North had a larger population. Then the North had better
educational facilities. In slavery times the South attended far less
to the education of its eommon folk than did the North, with her
traditional free school system. The South, as a result, had a
comparatively high percentage of illiteracy, a fact which presented
a serious obstacle to any sort of literary achievement. It is to be
noted, too, that the South sent the greater part of its male popula­
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tion into the army. Soldiering does not offer the "best inducement to
poetry. Crities have often commented on the fact that the "best war
lyrics are generally the work of men who are not themselves combat ants .
The qualities that make the poet are not the sane that make the
soldier, and seldom do we find a good soldier who is also a success­
ful poet. It was not a minute-man who wrote the stirring ballad of
Paul Revere's ride, but the peaceful songster at Cambridge nearly a
eentury after the Revolution; yet Longfellow is said to have achieved
more for his country by this poem than Paul Revere did by his ride.
Again, there was probably less inspiration for poetry on the Southern
side than on the Northern side. The North had a moral advantage over
the South, an advantage due to the issues over which the war was
fought. The South entered the war primarily for the purpose of
destroying the Union, incidentally to maintain the slave system
intact and see it extended over the free territories. Slavery,
said
a Southern statesman, was to be the corner-stone of the Confederacy.
The North,
in opposition to both principles, fought to preserve the
Union and check the progress of slavery. We are not concerned here
with the question of whether either side was wholly right or wholly
wrong. Perhaps the South fought from as high a sense of duty as did
the North. The North, at any rate, fought on better sentimental
ground than did their opponents. The theme of pro-slavery was not one
to inspire poetry, and few, if any, attempts were made to defend
slavery through the medium of verse. Lastly, it should be mentioned
that the war was fought almost altogether in the South. There could
be little time for writing among a people engaged with all their
powers in defending their lands from invasion. The suffering on both
sides was doubtless greater than we ean conceive of to-day. Yet the
South had the hardships of the war impressed upon them in a way which
allowed little room for poetic feeling. The North was at no time in
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in real jeopardy of its life, j h i l e the South was continually so.
Most occasional poetry is the work of non-professional poets.
Comparatively few of the poems inspired "by the Civil War were written
by persons whom we choose to rank as standard Authors. True, a
number of the better compositions were furnished by our leading
poets, who were naturally inspired to write some things touching on
the war. Thus we have Whittier's "Barbara Frietchie, " Lowell's
"Commemoration Ode," and Walt Whitman’s "0 Captain, My Captain,"
pieces which have become classic. But for the most part the poems
were written by the great minor class of writers. Let us note some
of the typical n a m e s . Thomas Buchanan Read is one. He is chiefly
known by one effort, the well-known ballad entitled "Sheridan's
Ride." Read was by profession a portrait painter. George Henry
Boker's name is associated with a number of excellent poems, two of
which are entitled "On the Hill before Centerville" and "On Board the
Cumberland." Boker was a diplomat and journalist. Another name is
that of a Southerner, Dr. Francis 0. Tieknor. Ticknor was a practising
physician in the state of Georgia, who devoted his spare time to
cultivating roses and writing verses. He is known in particular for
his "Little Giffen of Tennessee," the poem closing with the stanza:
"I sometimes fancy that were I king
Of the princely knights of the Golden Ring,
With the song of the minstrel in mine ear,
And the tender legend that trembles here,
I ’d give the best, on his bended knee,
The whitest soul of my chivalry,
For Little Giffen of Tennessee I"
Dr. Tieknor's verses were collected after his death by another
poet of the South, Paul Hamilton Hayne, who himself contributed a
number of war lyrics. Hayne's best known is perhaps that entitled
"Beyond the Potomac." Abram Joseph Ryan was a Southern army chaplain
and Catholie priest. His poems include one,
"The Conquered Banner,"
which fittingly and beautifully expresses the devotion of the South
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to the "Lost Cau-se":"Purl tliat Banner, for 'tis weary,
Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary:
Purl it, fold it,— it is.'best;
Por there's not a man to wave it,
And there's not a sword to save it,
And there's not one left to lave it
In the blood which heroes gave it,
And its foes now scorn and brave it:
Purl it, hide it,— let it rest!
"Purl that Banner— furl it sadly;
Once ten thousands hailed it gladly,
And ten thousands wildly, madly
Swore it should forever wave—
Swore that foemen's sword could never
Hearts like theirs entwined dissever,
And that flag should float forever
O'er their freedom, or their grave!
"Purl it!— for the hands that grasped it,
And the hearts that fondly clasped it,
Cold and dead are lying low;
And the Banner— it is trailing,
While around it sounds the wailing,
Of its people in their woe;
Por, though conquered, they adore it-Love the cold dead hands that bore it,
Weep for those who fell before it,
Pardon those who trailed and tore it;
And, oh, wildly they deplore it,
Now to furl and fold it so!
^Purl that Banner, softly, slowly;
Treat it gently,-it is holy,
Por it droops above the dead;
Touch it not--unfold it never;
Let Itldroop there, furled forever,—
Por its people's hopes are fled."
Now and then appeared poems which became immensely popular by
reason of being set to music.
"Maryland" and "Dixie" are the two
songs that were most popular in the South and brought fame to their
authors, James E. Randall and Albert Pike. It is an interesting fact
with regard to "Dixie" that the song had its origin in the N o r t h .
The author of the original song was Dan D. Emmett, a native of New
England. Emmett, who had traveled with a circus, had often heard his
associates express the wish, when winter was approaching, to be in
"Dixie." This wish he incorporated in the words of a song, the melody
of whieh he worked out on his violin. The song was first sung b y
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6* "
Bryants'* M i n s t r e l s in Hew York, in September, 1859. I t s vogue i n the
South began in the s p r in g o f 1861, when i t - w a s sung by a t h e a t r i c a l
company in New O rle a n s . The v e r s i o n w r i t t e n by P ik e ap p e ared a year
l a t e r in t h e F ate h ez C o u r ie r, and h e r e began th e h i s t o r y o f ’•Dixie*'
a s a s t r i c t l y m a r t i a l song. S t r a n g e l y enough, th e a u th o r of t h e
second s e t o f s t a n z a s was a l s o a N o rth ern man, P ik e hav in g been
born in Boston and e d u c ated a t H a rv a rd . J u s t l y famous a r e t h e words
o f J u l i a Ward Howe’ s " B a tt le Hymn," w r i t t e n t o t h e s t i r r i n g tu n e o f
"John Brown’ s Body." I n s p i r a t i o n f o r th e song came t o Mrs. Howe from
a v i s i t p a i d t o th e army camp n e a r Washington, D. C ., in th e f a l l o f
1861. The song o f "John Brown’ s Body" had a l r e a d y become t h e g r e a t
war chant o f t h e Union t r o o p s . A f r i e n d who accompanied Mrs. Howe o n ,
t h a t day su g g e s te d t h a t she t r y w r i t i n g some b e t t e r words f o r th e
tim e . The same n ig h t Mrs. Howe r o s e from h e r bed and penned t h e
im m ortal l i n e s o f t h e " B a t t l e Hymn o f t h e R e p u b l i c ." P ro b a b ly t h e r e
h as n o t been a s t a t e l i e r n a t i o n a l hymn w r i t t e n in any l a n g u a g e ; "Mine eyes have seen t h e g l o r y o f t h e coming of t h e Lord:
He i s tr a m p lin g out t h e v i n t a g e where t h e g rap es o f
w ra th a r e s t o r e d ;
He h a th lo o s e d the f a t e f u l l i g h t n i n g o f h i s t e r r i b l e
s w if t sword:
H is t r u t h i s marching on.
*
"In th e b e a u ty o f t h e l i l i e s C h r is t was born a c r o s s th e
sea,
With a g l o r y in H is bosom t h a t t r a n s f i g u r e s you and me:
As he d i e d to make men h o l y , l e t us d i e t o make men f r e e ,
While God i s m arching on ."
U nusual in t h e extreme were th e c irc u m s ta n c e s under w hich
Major Samuel H. M. B y e rs, an Iowa p o e t , w rote "Sherman's March t o th e
S e a ." M ajor Byers a t th e tim e was a p r i s o n e r o f war, c o n f in e d w i t h i n
th e C o n fe d e ra te sto e k a d e a t Columbia, South C a r o lin a . A d a i l y paper
smuggled i n t o t h e camp one c h i l l y morning b ro u g h t th e g la d d e n in g news
t h a t S herm an's army had l e f t A t l a n t a . To Byers came th e i n s p i r a t i o n
f o r a song, which he proceeded to w r i t e out on a s o i l e d b i t o f p a p e r.
The song was r e n d e r e d by t h e p r i s o n g le e c l u b , and from t h a t hour i t s
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author was a hero among his ragged comrades. The song was taken
Uorth by an exchanged prisoner, who concealed it in the hollow of
his wooden leg. It became at once popular and thousands of copies
were printed. General Sherman once remarked in conversation:
this poem, with its phrase
"It was
’march to the sea, ' that threw a glamour
of romance over the movement which it celebrates. The thing was
nothing more or less than a change of base, an operation perfectly
familiar to every military mam. But a poet got hold of it, gave it the
captivating label,
"The March to the Sea,' and the unmilitary public
made a romance out of it." General Sherman later sent for Byers and
the two men formed a life-long friendship. Sherman always preferred
Byers' production to the better-known "Marching through Georgia,"
written by Henry Clay Works.
Not a few of the poems on both sides were written by native
foreigners. Some of the pieces appear in dialect form, like the one
contributed to the Hew York Herald by a young Irishman, Charles
Graham Halpine, who wrote it over the pseudonym of "Private Miles
O'Reilly." The author served for a time on the staff of General
Hunter, who organized the first regiment of eolored troops, and the
poem is entitled "Sambo's Right to be Kilt":"Some tell us 'tis a burn in' shame
To make the naygers fight;
An' that the thrade of bein' kilt
Belongs but to the white:
But as for me, upon my sowl!
So liberal are we here,
I'll let Sambo be murthered instead of myself
On every day in the year.
On every day in the year, boys,
And in every hour of the day;
The right to be kilt I'll divide wid him,
An* divil a word I'll say."
Some of the poems are in the dialect of the S o u t h e r n ^ e g r o .
One, the "Jubilee Song," is said to have been sung by a body of'^egro
troops as they entered Richmond at the close of the war. George Cary
Eggleston says that this song, which might be supposed to have given
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offence to the Southern whites, was instead very popular among them,
and "was sung with applause by young men arid maidens in well nigh
every house in Virginia":"Say, darkeys, hah you seen de massa,
Wid de muffstash on he face,
Go long de road some time dis mornin*,
Like he gwine leabe de place?
He see de smoke way up de ribber
Whar de Lincum gunboats lay;
He took he hat an' leff berry sudden,
And I spose he's runned away.
De massa run, ha, ha!
De darkey stay, ho, ho!
It must be.now de kingdom cornin',
An' de yar ob jubilo."
Mention should furthermore be made of the large number of anon­
ymous authors. In one collection of pieces, which is fairly typical,
as many as forty per cent, are of unestablished origin. For personal
reasons many of the poems were originally offered to the papers and
magazines without signature. Others doubtless beeame fugitive
through the carelessness of publishers in transcribing them. Some of
them were found on the bodies of nameless soldiers slain in battle.
In a few cases a poem has either been wrongly attributed to or falsely
claimed by others than the rightful author. This was true of Major
Byers's "March to the Sea," also of the poem ealled "The Picket
Guard," which is now believed to be the work of Mrs. Ethelinda Beers.
Thanks to eareful investigation, most of the better poems can to-day
be identified.
Leaving the matter of authorship, we shall now consider the
character of the poems themselves. In the main it must be said that
the poems are sectional or partisan rather than national. Yet the
absence of rancor in most of them is one rather remarkable trait.
As a matter of fact the poems that exhibit rabid qualities are rather
few in number and are confined ehiefly to the first year of the war.
Poets who wrote at the beginning of the struggle were apt to indulge
in more or less denunciation of the other side, though frequently
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such attacks were nothing more than good-natured banter or an excus­
able display of pride. Thus we have Holmesls famous "Brother Jona­
t han ’s Lament for Sister Caroline," written upon the announcement
that South Carolina/had passed the ordinance of secession— the poem
which drew from a Southern writer the reply entitled "Farewell to
Brother Jonathan." The poem "Yankee Pride, " by General Lander, was
suggested to the author by a report that the Confederate troops had
said there would have been fewer Massachusetts officers killed at the
Battle
of Bull Run if they had not been "too proud to surrender": "Ay, deem us proud! for we are more
Than proud of all our mighty dead;
Proud of the bleak and rock-bound shore
A crowned oppressor cannot tread.
"Proud of each rock and wood and glen,
Of every river, lake, and plain;
Proud of the calm and earnest men
Who claim the right and will to reign.
"Proud of the men who gave us birth,
Who battled with the stormy wave,
To sweep the red man from the earth,
And build their homes upon his grave.
"Proud of the holy summer morn,
They traced in blood upon its sod;
The rights of freemen yet unborn,
Proud of their language and their God.
"Old State— some souls are rudely sped-This record for thy Twentieth corps,
Imprisoned, wounded, dying, dead,
It only asks, ’Has Sparta m o re ? ’"
It is noteworthy that the poems on the Southern side are
more intense than those produced in the North. Occasionally we find
an effusion like the following verses, which appeared in the Ro ck ­
ingham Register under the title "Call All! Call All!""Whoop! the Doodles have broken loose,
Roaring round like the very deuce;
Lice of Egypt, a hungry pack,—
After ’em, boys, and drive ’em back,—
"Bull-dog, terrier, cur, and fice,
B ack to the beggarly land of ice;
Worry 'em, bite 'em, scratch and tear
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Everybody and everywhere.
’’Old John Brown is dead and gone!
Still his spirit is marching on,—
Lahtern-jawed, and legs, my hoys,
Long as an ape's from Illinois!
#Want a weapon? Why,capture one!
Every Doodle has got a gun,
Belt and bayonet, bright and new;
Kill a Doodle and capture two!
"Shoulder to shoulder, son and sire!
All, call all! to the feast of fire!
Mother and maiden, and child and slave,
A common triumph or a single grave."
"The Despot's Song," by M01e Secesh," is another curious
specimen of the times:-
~
"With a beard that was filthy and red,
His mouth with tobacco bespread,
Abe Lincoln sat in the gay White House,
A-wishing that he was dead:
Swear! swear! swear!
Till his tongue was blistered o'er;
Then, in a voice not very strong,
He slowly whined the Despot's Song: —
’’L i e ! lie! lie!
I've lied like the very deuce!
r
Lie! lie! lie!
As long as lies were of use;
But how that lies no longer pay, 1
I know not where to turn;
For vfaen I the truth would say,
M y tongue with lies will burn!"
Doubtless A. J. Requier, the author of "The Stars and Bars,"
believed in the assertion commonly expressed in the South that one
Southerner could whip five Yankees:"Fling wide the dauntless banner
To every Southern breeze,
Baptized in flame with Sumter's name,—
A patriot and a hero's fame,—
From Moultrie to the seas!
That it may cleave the morning sun,
And, streaming, sweep the night,
The emblem of a battle won
With Yankee ships in sight.
■.
"Cofee, hucksters, from your markets;
Come, bigots, from your caves;
Come, venal spies, with brazen lies
Bewildering your deluded eyes,
That we may dig your graves;
Come, creatures of a sordid clown
______
And drivelling: trait or ’s br eath,
,
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A single "blast shall blow you down
Upon the fields of Death."
The later poems of the war exhibit, for the most part, a con­
trast with those that
came earlier. As the war progressed the tone
of the poems became on the whole more serious, and the later efforts
are characterized in general by higher emotional and better literary
qualities. This statement applies to the poetry on both sides. In
fact, there came to be very little distinction between the poems of
the North and those of the South except in the matter of setting.
Both sides in a sense forgot the issues of the war and the paramount
fact came to be the war itself. Both sides felt alike and suffered
alike. Thus in a poem like that of Forceythe Willson's, entitled
"Boy Brittan," it would be beyond the ken of one unacquainted with
the facts to tell whether the verses were of Northern or of Southern
inspiration. The poem has in it no suggestion of partisan feeling.
The incident related is a typical one, that of a b o y hero meeting
his death in battle, and the same scene was enacted thousands of
times on either side. It merely happens that the author is a North­
erner instead of a Southerner. The poem was written in 1862,
inspired
by an incident at the battle of Fort Henry. The closing stanza runs:"0 the victory--the victory
Belongs to thee!
God keeps ever the brightest crown for such as thou-He gives it now to thee!
0 young and brave, and early and thrice blest —
Thrice, thrice, thrice blest!
Thy country turns once more to kiss thy youthful brow,
And takes thee--gently— gently to her breast;
And whispers lovingly, "God bless thee— bless thee n o w —
M y darling, thou shalt rest!"
Some one has said that the essence of history exists in its
songs. The statement is well borne out in the verses with which we
are dealing. If all other records were lost, a critic might almost,
from a study of the war lyrics alone, reconstruct our country's
history for the period from the fall of Fort Sumter to the surrender
4 '
4
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of Lee's army. Hardly a battle or a skirmish of importance occurred
in the four years that failed to result in some appropriate poem,
and sometimes a number of them appeared simultaneously.
Among the first poems to be written after the actual outbreak
of the war was one by Edmund Clarence Stedman entitled "The Twelfth
of April.” It appeared in the evening edition of the Few York World,
on April 16, 1861:"Came the morning of that day,
When the God to whom we pray,
Gave the soul of Henry Clay
To the land;
H ow we loved h i m — living, dying!
But his birthday banners flying,
Saw us asking and replying,
Hand t o h a n d .
"For we knew that far away,
Round the fort at Charleston bay,
Hung the dark impending fray,
Soon to fall;
And that Sumter's brave defender
Had the summons to surrender:
Seventy loyal hearts and tender—
That was all.
"And we knew the April sun
Lit the length of many a gun-Hosts of batteries to the one
Island crag;
Guns and mortars grimly frowning,
Johnson, Moultrie, Pinckney, erowning,
And tlan thousand men disowning
The old flag."
(Etc.)
A southern poet, upon the same event, wrote "Sumter; a Ballad
of 1861." Presumably the author, E. 0. Murden, was an eye-witness of
the attack on the gallant fort:"'Twas on the twelfth of April,
Before the break of day,
We heard the guns of Moultrie
Give signal for the fray.
"Anon across the waters
There boomed the answering gun,
Prom North and South came flash on flash—
The battle had begun.
"The mortars belched their deadly food,
And spiteful whizzed the balls,
A fearful storm of iron hailed
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On S u m te r's doomed w a l l s .
"We watched th e meteor f l i g h t o f s h e l l ,
And saw t h e l i g h t n i n g f l a s h ;
Saw where each f i e r y m i s s i l e f e l l ,
And h e a rd th e s u l l e n c r a s h .
"How r i n g t h e "bells a jo y o u s p e a l ,
And re n d w ith sh o u ts th e a i r ,
We've t o r n th e h a t e d "banner down,
And p la c e d th e cres&ent t h e r e .
"S pread, spread th e t i d i n g s f a r and w ide,
Ye winds t a k e up th e cry :
'Our s o i l ' s redeemed from h a t e f u l yoke,
W e 'l l keep i t p u re or d i e . ' "
A few days a f t e r th e f a l l o f F o rt Sumter th e c o u n try was again
s t i r r e d w i t h t h e news t h a t a v o l u n t e e r re g im e n t, th e S ix th Massachu­
s e t t s , had "been a t t a c k e d "by a mob in the s t r e e t s o f B a lti m o r e . I t
was t o l d o f L uther C. Ladd, one o f th e s o l d i e r s s l a i n in th e a t t a c k ,
t h a t he c h e ered t h e f l a g w ith h i s l a s t b r e a t h . The i n c i d e n t c a l l e d
f o r t h a b a l l a d by C laren c e B u t l e r , e n t i t l e d " A p o c a l y p s e "Thus, l i k e a k in g , e r e c t in p r i d e ,
R a is in g h i s hands t o h eaven, he c r i e d ,
' A l l h a i l th e S t a r s and S t r i p e s ! ' and d ie d .
"Died g r a n d ly ; b u t , b e f o r e he f e l l ,
(0 b l e s s e d n e s s i n e f f a b l e ! )
V is io n a p o c a l y p t i c a l
^
"Was g r a n te d t o him, and h i s ey es,
A l l r a d i a n t w ith g la d s u r p r i s e ,
Looked forw ard th roug h t h e c e n t u r i e s ,
"And saw t h e seeds t h a t sages e a s t
In th e w o r l d 's s o i l in c y c le s p a s t ,
S p rin g up and blossom a t the l a s t :
v
"Saw how th e s o u ls of men had grown,
And where t h e s c y th e s of f r u t h had mown,
C le a r space f o r L i b e r t y ' s w h ite t h r o n e ;
"Saw how, by sorrow t r i e d and proved,
The l a s t d ark s t a i n s had been removed
F o re v e r from th e la n d he lo v e d .
"Saw Treason cru sh e d , an d Freedom crowned,
And clamorous f a c t i o n gagged and bound,
G asping i t s l i f e out on th e g ro u n d ."
( E t c .)
R e fe re n ce h as been p r e v i o u s l y made t o th e poem "M aryland,"
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writ ten "by Janies R. Randall. Save "Dixie," no song in the South was
as popular as this one, though "Maryland" is in many ways superior
as a poem. It has "been called the Marseillaise of the Confederate
cause. Randall, who was a native Marylander, wrote the lines while
in New Orleans, upon hearing of the riot in Baltimore. The poem
appeared in print the following week.
The disastrous fight at Bull Run, in July, 1861, gave inspira­
tion to a number of pieces, among which the lines of Boker's "Upon
the Hill before Centerville" are perhaps the best know n :"Por mile on mile the line of war
Extended; and a steady roar,
As of some distant stormy sea,
On the south-wind came up to me.
And high in the air, and over all,
Grew, like a fog, that murky pall,
Beneath whose gloom of dusty smoke
The cannon flamed, the bombshell broke,
And the sharp rattling volley rang,
And shrapnel roared, and bullets sang,
And fierce-eyed men, with panting breath,
Toiled onward at the work of death.
I could not see, but knew too well,
That underneath that cloud of hell,
Which still grew more by great degrees,
Man strove with man in deeds like these."
Upon the same battle, Catherine M. Warfield, a Southern writer,
gave tfs the poem "Manassas":"They have met at last— as storm-elouds
Meet in heaven,
And the Northmen back and bleeding
Have been driven:
And their thunders have been stilled,
And their leaders eri^ched or killed,
And their ranks with terror thrilled,
Rent and riven!
"Like the leaves of Vallambrosa
They are lying;
In the moonlight, in the midnight,
Dead and dying:
Like those leaves before the gale,
Swept their legions, wild and pale;
While the host that made them quail
Stood, defying."
(Etc.)
England was naturally pleased at the outcome of the battle.
A burlesque production descriptive of the way the Union forces re­
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treated from the field appeared in the pages of the London Punch: "Yankee Doodle went to war,,
On his- little pony,
What did he go fighting for,
"Everlasting goney!
Yankee Doodle was a chap
Who bragged and swore tarnation,
He stuck a feather in his cap,
And called it federation.
Yankee Doodle, etc.
"Yankee Doodle, near Bull Run
Met his adversary,
First he thought the fight he's won,
Faet proved quite contrary.
Panic-struck he fled, with speed
Of lightning glib with unction,
Of slippery grease, in full stampede,
From famed Manassas Junction.
Yankee Doodle, etc.
The state government of Missouri at the outbreak of the war was
openly in sympathy with the Confederacy, and doubtless the state
would have 'seceded :h&ddit not been for the efforts of General Blair
and General Nathaniel Lyon. Lyon's untimely death while leading a
eharge at Wilson's Creek ealled forth a tribute from Henry Peterson:"Sing, bird, on green Missouri's plain,
Thy saddest song of sorrow;
Drop tears, 0 clouds, in gentlest rain
Ye from the winds can borrow;
Breathe out, ye winds, your softest sigh,
Weep, flowers, in dewy splendor,
For him who knew well how to die,
But never to surrender!
•
a
"Rest, patriot, in thy hillside grave,
Beside her form who bore thee!
Long may the land thou diedst to save
Her bannered stars wave o'er thee!
Upon her history's brightest page,
And on F a m e 's glowing portal,
She'll write thy grand, hereic rage
And grave thy name immortal."
Our relations with England in 1861 over the Trent affair result­
ed in a number of humorous and satirical
productions. Lowell*s poem
"Jonathan to John," which is included in the second series of the
"Bigelow Papers," attracted much attention at the time in both
countries: -
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" I t d o n ' t seem h a r d l y r i g h t , John,
When "both my hands was f u l l ,
To stump me t o a f i g h t , J o h n , - Your e o u s in , t u , John B u l l!
Ole Uncle S . , sez h e , ' I g u e s s
We know i t now ,' sez h e ,
'The L i o n 's paw i s a l l t h e law,
A ec o rd in ' t o J . B .,
T h e t ' s f i t f o r you an ' m e!'
"Why t a l k so d r e f f l e b i g , John,
Of honor when i t meant
You d i d n ' t e a re a f i g , John,
But j e s t f o r t e n p er c e n t?
Ole Uncle S . , sez h e , ' I g u e s s
H e 's l i k e t h e r e s t , ' sez h e ;
'When a l l i s done, i t ' s number one
T h e t ' s n e a r e s t t o J . B .,
Ez wal ez t ' you a n ' me! '
1
"We g iv e th e c r i t t e r s b a c k , John,
Cos Abram th o u g h t 'tw a s r i g h t ;
I t w a r n 't your b u l l y i n ' c l a c k , John,
P ro v o k in ' us t o f i g h t .
Ole Uncle S . , sez h e , ' I guess
We've a h a r d r o w ,' sez h e ,
'To hoe j u s t now; but t h e t , somehow,
May happen t o J . B . ,
Ez wal ez you an* m e ! '" ( E t c . )
The f o l l o w i n g s t a n z a i s from an anonymous p arod y on B u r n s ' s
(3
"John Anderson My J o " : "John B u l l , E s q u i r e , my j o John,
When we were f i r s t a c q u e n t,
You a c t e d v e r y much a s now
You a c t about th e T r e n t .
You s t o l e my bonny s a i l o r s , John,
My bonny s h ip s a l s o ,
Y o u 'r e aye th e same f i e r c e b e a s t to me,
John B u l l , E s q u ir e , my j o ! "
By a n o th e r p a r o d i s t i t was s u g g e s te d t h a t t h e E n g lis h n a t i o n a l
hymn be a l t e r e d t o s u i t t h e t i m e s : "God save me, g r e a t John B u l l !
Long keep my pocket f u l l !
God save John B u ll!
Ever v i c t o r i o u s ,
Haughty, v a i n - g l o r i o u s ,
S nobbish, c e n s o r io u s ,
God save John B u l l ! " ( E t c . )
Had th e war been i n t e r n a t i o n a l r a t h e r th a n i n t e r n e c i n e , d o u b t­
l e s s more o f th e poems would have assumed t h e form o f n a v a l b a l l a d s .
As i t i s , t h e r e a r e b u t a sm a ll number which r e l a t e t o th e war on
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th e s e a . Perhaps t h e b e s t l y r i e o f t h i s c h a r a c t e r i s t h a t o f th e
poet L ongfellow d e s c r i b i n g th e s i n k i n g o f , t h e "Cumberland” by th e
famous i r o n - c l a d "M errimac": "At anchor in Hampton Roads we l a y ,
On b o a rd th e Cumberland slo o p of war,
And a t tim e s from th e f o r t r e s s a e r o s s t h e bay
The alarm o f drums swept p a s t ,
Or a b u g le b l a s t
Prom t h e camp on sh o re .
"Then f a r away t o t h e so uth u p ro se
A l i t t l e f e a t h e r o f snow-white smoke,
And we knew t h a t t h e ir o n s h ip o f our fo e s
Was s t e a d i l y s t e e r i n g i t s co u rse
To t r y the f o r e e
Of our r i b s o f oak.
■
0
"We a r e not i d l e but send h e r s t r a i g h t
D e fia n c e baek in a f u l l b r o a d s id e !
As h a i l rebounds from a r o o f o f s l a t e
Rebounds our h e a v i e r h a i l
From eaeh ir o n s c a le
Of t h e m o n s t e r ’ s h i d e . "
(E tc.)
Two o f George H. B o k e r 's poems, "The Sword-Bearer" and "On
Board t h e Cumberland," d e a l w ith th e same i n c i d e n t . The famous b a t t l e
between t h e E e a r s a r g e and th e r e b e l eom m eree-destroyer Alabama was
c e l e b r a t e d by an anonymous p o e t : ”I t was e a r l y Sunday morning, in t h e y e a r o f s i x t y four,
The Alabama she steamed out along the F renchm an's
shLr e v
Long tim e she c r u i s e d ab o u t,
Long tim e she h e l d h e r sway,
But now b e n e a th the F renchm an's sh o re she l i e s
o f f Cherbourg Bay.
H o ist up t h e f l a g and lo n g may i t wave
Over t h e Union, th e home o f t h e b r a v e .
H oist up th e f l a g and long may i t wave,
God b l e s s America, t h e home o f the b ra v e !
"The Alabama she i s gone, s h e ' l l e r u i s e th e se as
no more;
She met th e f a t e she w e l l d e s e rv e d along th e
Frenchm an's sh o re ;
Then h e r e i s l u c k to th e K e a r s a r g e —we know what she
can do,
L ikew ise to "Captain Winslow and h i s b r a v e a n d
g a l l a n t erew.
H oist up t h e f l a g and long may i t wave
Over t h e Union, th e home o f t h e b ra v e !
H oist up t h e f l a g and lo n g may i t wave,
God b l e s s America, th e home o f t h e b r a v e ! "
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"The River Pight,M by Henry H. Brownell,
contains a spirited
and lengthy account of Admiral Parragut's victory near H e w Orleans,
A companion piece is the poem called "The Bay Eight," by the same
author, describing the battle in Mobile Harbor.
The most criticized man in the army in war time was General
McClellan. As commander of the Army of the Potomac, he was found,
fault: with on every side for his failure to march the troops upon
Richmond when everything seemed to be in readiness for an advance.
c
•
•'
An interesting poem by Stedman, entitled "Wanted--A Man," comes to us
from the year 1862 and embodies the popular clamor at that time for
a new deader. Lincoln is said to have been so impressed by this poem
that he read it to his cabinet
"Back from the trebly crimsoned field
Terrible words are thunder-tost;
Pull of the wrath that will not yield,
Full of revenge for battles lost!
Hark to their echo, as it crost
The Capital, making faces wan:
'End this murderous holocaust;
Abraham Lincoln, give us a M A N ! '
"Give us a man of God's own mould,
Born to marshal his fellow-men;
One vshose fame is not bought and sold
At the stroke of a politician's pen;
Give us the man of thousands ten,
Pit to do as well as to plan;
Give us a rallying-cry, and then,
Abraham Lincoln, give us a MAN.'
"Oh, we will follow him to the death,
Where the foeman's fiercest columns are!
Oh, we will use our latest breath,
Cheering for every sacred star!
His to marshal us high and far;
Ours to battle, as patriots can
When a hero leads the Holy War!—
Abraham Lincoln, give us a MAN!"
The familiar poem "Three Hundred Thousand More" was written in
1862 in response to the President's call at that time for more
volunteers. Lincoln is said to have listened to the song at the White
House one morning with bowed head. The author is James S. Gibbons:-
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"We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred
thousand more,
From Mississippi's winding .stream and from Few
England's shore;
We leave our ploughs and workshops, our wives
and children dear,
With hearts too full for utterance, with but
a silent tear;
We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly
before:
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred
thousand more!"
(Etc.)
The Battle of Chancellorsville, in May, 1863, deprived the
Confederacy of oge of its ablest generals, the noble Stonewall
Jackson. A lyric by Henry L. Flash reflects the love and reverence
of the South for its dead leader:"Hot 'mid the lightning of the stormy figjat,
Not in the rush upon the vandal foe,
Did kingly Death, with his resistless might,
Lay. the great leader low.
"He entered not the Nation's Promised Land
At the red belching of the cannon's mouth;
But broke the House of Bondage with his hand—
The Moses of the South!
"0 gracious God! not gainless is the loss:
A glorious sunbeam gilds thy sternest frown;
And 'while his country staggers with the Cross,
He rises with the Crown."
The Battle of Gettysburg inspired a number of good poems. One
shall be mentioned here, the title of which is "John Burns of Gettys­
burg." The author is Bret Harte. The poem tells the incident of an
old man, the Constable of Gettysburg, who, "in a swallow-tailed coat
and battered cylinder hat, came stalking across the fields from the
town, and made his appearance at Colonel Stone's position. With a
musket in his hand and ammunition in his pocket, this venerable
citizen asked Colonel Wister's permission to fight. Wister directed
him to go over to the Iron Brigade, where he would be sheltered by
the woods; but the old man insisted on going forward to the skirmish
line. He was allowed to do so, and continued firing until the skir­
mishers retired, when he was the last man to leave." It was not the
first experience for the old man in battle, as he was veteran of
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two o f our c o u n t r y 's w ars. His appearance upon th e " b a t t l e f i e l d t h a t
day was a t f i r s t a s i g n a l f o r j e e r s , h ut t h e p o e t a d d s : '*’Twas hut f o r a moment , f o r t h a t r e s p e c t
Which c l o t h e s a l l cou rage t h e i r v o i c e s checked;
And something t h e w i l d e s t could u n d e r s ta n d
Spake in t h e old Man*s s tr o n g r i g h t hand,
And h i s co rd ed t h r o a t , a n d t h e l u r k i n g frown
Of h i s eye-"brows under h i s o ld b e l l - c r o w n ;
U n t i l , as t h e y gazed, t h e r e c r e p t an awe
Through th e r a n k s in w h is p e r s , and some men saw,
In th e a n t i q u e v estm e n ts and long w h ite h a i r ,
The P ast of t h e N ation in "battle t h e r e ;
And some of t h e s o l d i e r s s i n c e d e c l a r e
That th e gleam o f h i s old w h ite h a t a f a r ,
Like t h e c r e s t e d plume o f t h e "brave N a v a rre ,
That day was t h e i r oriflamme o f w a r."
A w e a lth of good v e r s e s have ap p e ared upon L in c o ln s in c e th e
w ar. No o th e r name, in d e ed , occupies so prominent a p la c e in our
n a t i o n ' s p o e t i c l i t e r a t u r e as t h a t o f t h e ^ M a rty r" P r e s i d e n t . A few
of t h e L in c o ln poems, l i k e th e l i n e s o f Walt Whitman's "0 C a p ta in ,
My C a p t a i n ," have a t t a i n e d th e rank o f n a t i o n a l c l a s s i c s : "0 C aptain! my C aptain! our f e a r f u l t r i p i s done,
The s h ip h a s w eathered every r a c k , th e p r i z e we sought
i s won,
The p o r t i s n e a r , the "bells I h e a r , t h e p eo p le a l l
ex u ltin g ,
While f o llo w eyes t h e s te a d y k e e l , t h e v e s s e l grim and
d a r in g ;
But 0 h e a r t ! h e a r t ! h e a r t !
0 th e b l e e d i n g drops o f r e d ,
Where on t h e deck my C aptain l i e s ,
F a l l e n co ld and d e a d ."
The b e s t p o r t r a y a l o f L in coln in p o e t r y i s p ro b a b ly t h a t o f
James R u s s e l l Lowell in th e Commemoration Ode r e c i t e d a t H arv ard ,
J u l y 21, 1865. The s ta n z a s which p i c t u r e L in co ln were n o t , however,
composed and r e c i t e d w ith th e r e s t o f t h e ode, b u t were an a f t e r ­
th o u g h t o f t h e a u t h o r ' s : "N ature, they sa y , d o th d o te ,
And cannot make a man
Save on some w orn-out p la n ,
R e p e a tin g us by r o t e :
For him h e r Old-World moulds a s id e she th rew ,
And, choosing sweet c la y from t h e b r e a s t
Of th e unexhausted West,
With s t u f f u n t a i n t e d shaped a h e ro new,
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21
-
Wise, s t e a d f a s t in tlie s t r e n g t h o f God, and t r u e .
How "b e a u tifu l t o se e
Once more a sh epherd o f mankind in d e e d ,
Who lo v e d h i s ch a rg e , b ut n e v e r loved t o le a d ;
One whose meek f l o c k t h e peop le jo y e d t o b e ,
l o t l u r e d b y any ch eat o f b i r t h ,
But by h i s c l e a r - g r a i n e d human w o rth ,
And b ra v e old wisdom of s i n c e r i t y *
Here was a ty p e o f th e t r u e e l d e r r a c e ,
And one of P l u t a r c h ' s men t a l k e d w ith us f a c e t o f a c e .
I p r a i s e him n o t ; i t were too l a t e ;
And some i n n a t i v e weakness t h e r e must be
In him who condescends to v i c t o r y
Such as t h e P r e s e n t g iv e s , and cannot w a i t ,
S afe in h i m s e l f a s in a f a t e .
So always f i r m l y he:
He knew t o b id e h i s tim e ,
And can h i s fame a b i d e ,
S t i l l p a t i e n t in h i s sim ple f a i t h su b lim e,
T i l l t h e wise y e a r s d e c i d e .
G reat c a p t a i n s , w ith t h e i r guns and drums,
D i s t u r b our judgment f o r t h e h o u r ,
But a t l a s t s i l e n c e comes;
These a r e a l l gone, and, s ta n d in g l i k e a to w er,
......... Our c h i l d r e n s h a l l behold h i s fame,
The k i n d l y - e a r n e s t , b r a v e , f o r e s e e i n g man,
S a g a c io u s , p a t i e n t , d r e a d in g p r a i s e , not blame,
Few b i r t h o f our new s o i l , t h e f i r s t A m erican."
5’rom the f o r e g o in g examples i t w i l l be seen t h a t t h e poems
cover a wide ran g e o f t o p i c s and p r e s e n t th e r e a d e r w ith a f a i r l y
s a t i s f a c t o r y p i c t u r e o f t h e w ar. I t can be s a i d of th e n a r r a t i v e
poems t h a t as a r u l e th e y d e s c r i b e e v e n ts in a t r u e manner. In some
c a s e s i t i s t r u e t h a t t h e p o e t has used h i s im a g in a tio n t o make th e
p i c t u r e s t a n d . out v i v i d l y . A ll p o e t s t a k e t f r i s l i b e r t y w ith t h e i r
m a t e r i a l . I t may be doubted, f o r example, whether Read h as n o t t o an
e x t e n t overdrawn t h e p i c t u r e o f S h e r id a n ’ s r i d e from W in c h e ste r. Yet
every r e a d e r o f h i s t o r y knows t h a t t h e s t o r y , in th e main, i s based
upon fac t .
C r i t i c s have o f te n r i d i c u l e d th e s t o r y o f B a rb a ra F r i e t c h i e ,
t h e h e r o i n e o f th e l i t t l e b a l l a d by W h ittri^ rv .
V
r e a s o n s f o r b e l i e v i n g , however, th a t th e s t o r y J's^tna^jA_#&&ttier
o b ta in e d t h e s t o r y in war tim e from a r e l i a b l e so u r & e V la n ^ th e po et
h i m s e l f always re g a r d e d th e n a r r a t i v e as t r u e , though he never f e l t
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re sponsible for its details. That there was a venerable lady b y the
name of Barbara Frietchie living in Frederick, Maryland, at the time
of the war, there is no longer the slightest doubt/ For the pathetic
incident which describes how Barbara flaunted the Union flag in the
faces of rebel troops marching past her home, Whittier was indebted
to one of his friends, the well-known novelist, Mrs. Southworth, of
Washington, D. C. Mrs. Southworth had read the incident in some of
j
the Eastern papers and had writtten to some friends of hers in
Frederick to ascertain if the story were true. Her friends had
vouched for the story and given her the full details. These details
she communicated to Mr. Whittier in a letter, suggesting to him that
there might b^ material in the incident for a poem. Within a few days
Whittier had written the poem, which appeared in the next issue of
the Atlantic Monthly. We should expect the story, if it were untrue,
to be denied first of all by Barbara's own townspeople. Far from that,
the people of Frederick are proud of their heroine,
and the site of
Barbara's old home has for some years been marked by a tablet recit­
ing her bravery. Within. the past week the papers have stated that
the citizens of
Frederick are now raising a large sum of money with
which to erect a monument to their heroine's name. The facts about
Barbara Frietchie have been carefully investigated, and there would
seem to be little doubt that the setting of the poem is true.
In addition to the poems arising out of historic incidents,
there is a large class of others— romantic, humorous, pathetic, and
tragic--which describe typical, often imaginary, incidents of the
war, or reflect the feelings of the people who were the actors and
sufferers in the struggle. The themes and the manner of treatment
in such poems are usually simple; yet the appeal made by them to the
reader is often eloquent. Colonel Higsginson's poem,
Bugle," may be noted under this class of lyrics:-
"Waiting For The
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"We wait for the bugle; the night dews are cold,
The limbs of the soldiers feel jaded and old,
The field of our bivouac is windy and bare,
There is lead in our joints, there is frost in our hair,
The future is veiled and its fortunes unknown
As we lie with hushed breath till the bugle is blown.
}
"At the sound of that bugle each comrade will spring
Like an arrow released from the strain of the string:
The courage, the impulse of youth shall come back
To banish tjie chill of the drear bivouac,
And sorrows and losses and cares fade away
When that- life-giving signal proclaims the new day.
"Though the bivouac of age may put ice in our veins,
And no fiber of steel in our sinew remains;
Though the comrades of yesterday's march are not here,
And the sunlight seems pale and the branches are sear,—
Thbugh the sound of our cheering dies down to a moan,
We shall find our lost youth when the bugle is blown."
Not the least interesting of the poems are those that picture
the home life of Ithe volunteer, his enlistment and departure for the
war, and the glad reunion after four years,
"When wild War's deadly
blast is blown and gentle Peace returning." Numerous tributes have
been paid to the women of the war by poets North and South. Read's
"The Brave at Home" is a good example of eulogy of this kind:"The maid who binds her warrior's sash
With smile that well her pain dissembles,
The while beneath her drooping lash
One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles;
Though Heaven alone records the tear,
And fame shall never know her story,
Her heart has shed a drop as dear
As e'er bedewed the field of glory!
"The wife who girds her husband's sword
Mid little ohes that weep and wonder,
And bravely speaks the cheering word,
What though her heart be rent asunder,
Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear
The bolts of death around him rattle,
Has shed as sacred blood as e'er
Was poured upon the field of battle.
"The mother who conceals her grief
While to her breast her son she presses,
Then breathes a few brave words and briefly
Kissing the patriot brow she blesses,
With ho one but her secret God
To know the pain that weighs upon her,
Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod
Received on Freedom's field of honor!"
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Eulogy of the dead is another characteristic theme. Most
of
the metrical pieces that have appeared since the war are in the
a
nature of memorials for the fallen soldier. In such lyrics, almost
without^ exception, there is entirely wanting any feeling of bitter­
ness. On the contrary most of them express brotherhood of a sublime
type. In the poems by Southern writers there is lofty resignation,
while in those of Northern inspiration there is generosity toward a
vanquished foe. Henry Timrod's "Ode to the Confederate Dead" Whittier
always regarded as "the noblest poem written b y a Southern poet":"Sleep sweetly in w u r humble graves,
Sleep martyrs/t5f a fallen cause;
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.
"In seeds of laurel in
The blossom of your
And somewhere, waiting
The shaft is in the
the earth
fame is blown,
for its birth,
stone.
"Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years
Which keep in trust your storied tombs,
Behold! your sisters bring their tears
And these memorial blooms.
"Small tributes! but your shades will smile
More proudly on these wreaths to-day,
Than when some cannon-moulded pile
Shall overlook this bay.
"Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!
There is no. holier spot of ground
Than where defeated valor lies,
By mourning beauty crowned!"
By a Northern poet, Henry Jerome Stockard, were written the
stanzas entitled "Over Their Graves":"Over their graves rang once the bugle's call,
The searching shrapnel, and the crashing ball;
The shriek, the shock of battle, and the neigh
Of horse; the cries of anguish and dismay;
And the loud cannon's thunders that appall.
"Now through the years the brown pine-needles fall,
The vines run riot by the old stone wall,
By hedge, by meadow streamlet, far away,
Over their graves.
"We love our dead where'er so held in thrall,--
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Than they no Greek more "bravely died, nor Gaul,—
A love that's deathless! "but they look to-day
With no reproaches on us -when we say,
i
'Come! let us clasp your hands, we're brothers all,'
Over their graves."
In general the poems elicited by the Civil War are of more
historical value than literary importance. Ballads and occasional
poems do not, as a rule, take high rank as literature, because, for
the most part, they are not the work of literapr'artists. Indeed,
many of the great events of history, like the Reformation and the
wars of Cromwell, have left us little or no worthy poetry. Neverthe­
less, the majority of poems of our Civil War must be said to have
a degree of merit. Criticism sometimes fails to discover the value
iri a poem even when it is there. Other tests are sometimes necessary
than those of ordinary criticism. A poem may be of little value
injsojfar as it fails to accord with literary rules. Yet if the same
poem interprets popular feeling in a crisis like the Civil War, and
is read, recited, and sung by millions of people, it can hardly be
denied the possession of merit. Poems can hardly be studied fairly
apart from their environment and causes. Apology is unnecessary for
the poems occasioned by the Civil War. Some of them are manifestly of
a quality that entitles them to live. Said one^of Mrs. Howe's "Battle
Hymn," "It will last as long as the Civil War is remembered in
history."
In closing this sketch attention shall be called to one more
poem,
"The Blue and the Gray." This poem, which has become a national
classic, appeared first in the Atlantic Monthly for September, 1867.
The author was Judge Francis Miles Finch of the New York bar. The
poem was suggested by an item in the New York Tribune which stated
that the women of Columbus, Mississippi, on their Decoration Day,
had strewed flowers alike on the graves of the Union and Confederate
dead. Some one has remarked that this poem did more than all else
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26
-
t h a t was w r i t t e n or spoken t o r e s t o r e good f e e l i n g between t h e N orth
and t h e S o u th . C e r t a i n l y i t i s one o f t h e . f i n e s t e x p r e s s i o n s c a l l e d
f o r t h by t h e war. The form of t h e poem i s s im p le , w h ile t h e s p i r i t
i s t h a t o f th e second in a u g u r a l a d d r e s s o f L i n c o l n : "By th e flow o f t h e in la n d r i v e r ,
Whence t h e f l e e t s o f i r o n have f l e d ,
Where t h e b l a d e s o f th e g r a v e - g r a s s q u i v e r ,
Asleep a r e t h e ranks o f t h e dead;
Under th e sod and th e dew,
W aitin g t h e ju d g m e n t-d a y ;
Under th e one, the B lu e ,
Under t h e o t h e r , t h e Gray.
"These in th e ro b in g s o f g lo r y ,
Those in th e gloom o f d e f e a t ,
A l l w i t h t h e b a t t l e - b l o o d g o ry ,
In the dusk o f e t e r n i t y meet:
Under t h e sod and th e dew,
Waiting th e ju d g m e n t-d a y ;
Under th e l a u r e l , th e B lue,
Under th e Willow, th e Gray.
"Prom th e s i l e n c e o f s o r ro w f u l h o u rs
The d e s o l a t e mourners go,
L ovingly la d e n w ith f lo w e r s
A like f o r t h e f r i e n d and th e f o e :
Under th e sod and th e dew,
W aiting the judgm ent-day;
Under th e r o s e s , t h e Blue,
Under the l i l i e s , the Gray.
"So, w ith an eq u a l s p le n d o r,
The morning su n -ra y s f a l l ,
With a to u c h i m p a r t i a l l y te n d e r ,
On th e blossom s blooming f o r a l l :
Under t h e sod and t h e dew,
W aiting th e ju d g m e n t-d a y ;
B ro id e re d w i t h g o ld , t h e B lu e,
Mellowed w ith g o ld , th e Gray.
"So, when th e summer c a l l e t h ,
On f o r e s t and f i e l d o f g r a i n ,
With an equal murmur f a l l e t h
The c o o lin g d r i p of th e r a i n :
Under t h e sod and th e dew,
W aiting th e judgm ent-day:
Wet w ith th e r a i n , th e B lu e,
Wet w ith the r a i n , t h e Gray.
"S adly, but n ot w ith u p b r a id i n g ,
The gen erous deed was done,
In t h e storm of t h e y e a r s t h a t a re f a d i n g
No b r a v e r b a t t l e was won:
Under th e sod and t h e dew,
Waiting- t h e judgm ent-day;
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Under the "blossoms, the Blue,
Under the garlands, the Gray.
"No more shall the war cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever
When they laurel the graves of our dead
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Love and tears for the Blue,
Tears and love for the Gray."