In the Wilderness 



In its green paddock, leading toward the ford 

 Of Rappahannock and of Rapidan, 

 Amidst the peach trees' rosy blossoming, 

 About the whitewashed shanties of the slaves, 

 The ground was piled thrice deep with wrecks of men 

 Living and dying — things which once were men. 

 The Blue — the Red — commingled with the Gray! 

 The blazing Inn an awesome funeral pyre. 



Men tell us how the angry sun went down 



A bloodshot disk upon a shrinking sky; 



And then uprose the great white Maytime moon, 



Flooding the forest with her patient light 



Till Horror paled in dumb forgetfulness. 



Shall we not ask in contrite humbleness: 



Can we give praise to Lord of Heaven, or Hell, 



For aught men did here in the wilderness ? 



II 

 Down in yon somber hollow Jackson fell, 

 His red hand raised in worship, to the last 

 Austere, devoted, of his Duty sure. 

 For States make Duty of the wrath of man, 

 Imputing Righteousness to deeds abhorred. 



"The soldier has no duty save to die." 



And is this Duty, that he thus should die? 



Are nations built on bones of mangled men? 



Have bonds of union no cement save blood ? 



"Obedience to the Law before all Time!" 



But then is such obedience supreme, 



Brought to fulfillment through red-handed rage? 



"The brave makes Danger, Opportunity." 



Is there no danger save from cannonades? 



Is there no hardier, craftier foe than this 



Whose strength is measured by a saber-thrust? 



The path to Justice between man and man 



Must lead through strife, but not through pools of blood. 



The clash of will, but not the crush of men. 



X. 795 1 



