Dirge For Two Veterans
THE last sunbeam
Lightly falls from the finish'd Sabbath,
On the pavement here--and there beyond, it is looking,
Down a new-made double grave.
Lo! the moon ascending!
Up from the east, the silvery round moon;
Beautiful over the house tops, ghastly phantom moon;
Immense and silent moon.
I see a sad procession,
And I hear the sound of coming full-key'd bugles; 10
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. 20
Now nearer blow the bugles,
And the drums strike more convulsive;
And the day-light 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! 30
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,
My heart gives you love.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Related quotes
Beat! Beat! Drums!
BEAT! beat! drums!--Blow! bugles! blow!
Through the windows--through doors--burst like a ruthless force,
Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation;
Into the school where the scholar is studying;
Leave not the bridegroom quiet--no happiness must he have now with
his bride;
Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, plowing his field or gathering his
grain;
So fierce you whirr and pound, you drums--so shrill you bugles blow.
Beat! beat! drums!--Blow! bugles! blow!
Over the traffic of cities--over the rumble of wheels in the streets:
Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? No sleepers
must sleep in those beds; 10
No bargainers' bargains by day--no brokers or speculators--Would they
continue?
Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing?
Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the
judge?
Then rattle quicker, heavier drums--you bugles wilder blow.
Beat! beat! drums!--Blow! bugles! blow!
Make no parley--stop for no expostulation;
Mind not the timid--mind not the weeper or prayer;
Mind not the old man beseeching the young man;
Let not the child's voice be heard, nor the mother's entreaties;
Make even the trestles to shake the dead, where they lie awaiting the
hearses, 20
So strong you thump, O terrible drums--so loud you bugles blow.
poem by Walt Whitman
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The Drums of Battersea
They can’t hear in West o’ London, where the worst dine with the best—
Deaf to all save lies and laughter, they can’t hear in London West—
Tailored brutes and splendid harlots, and the parasites that be—
They can’t hear the warning thunder of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Misery—
Beating from the hearts of men—the Drums of Battersea.
Where the hearses hurry ever, and where man lives like a beast,
They can feel the war-drums beating—men of Hell! and London East.
And the far-off foreign farmers, fighting fiercely to be free,
Found new courage in the echo of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Beating for the free—
Beating on the hearts of men—the Drums of Battersea.
And the drummers! Ah! the drummers!—stern and haggard men are those
Standing grimly at their meetings; and their washed and mended clothes
Speak of worn-out wives behind them and of grinding poverty—
But the English of the English beat the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of agony—
The big bruised heart of England’s in the Drums of Battersea.
Where in fields slave Englishwomen, Oh! the sound of drums is there:
I have heard it in the laughter of the nights of Leicester Square—
Sailing southward with the summer, London but a dream to me,
Still I feel the distant thunder of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Liberty—
Rolling round the English world—the Drums of Battersea.
Oh! I heard them in the Queen’s Hall—aye! and London heard that night—
While we formed up round the leaders while they struck one blow for right!
And the old strength, that old fire, that I thought was dead in me,
Blazed up fiercely at the beating of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
They beat for victory—
When above the roar of Jingoes rolled the Drums of Battersea.
And where’er my feet may wander, and howe’er I lay my head,
I shall hear them while I’m dreaming—I shall hear them when I’m dead!
For they beat for men and women, beat for Christ, and you and me:
There is hope and there is terror in the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of destiny—
There’s hope!—there’s hope for England in the Drums of Battersea.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Moon After Day
Moon shed a tear
Moon give me fear
Moon light my way
Moon after day
Moon give me strength
Moon has no length
What I want to say,
Is Moon after day
Moon is full
Moon is dull
Moon light my way
Moon after day
Moon is my life
Moon gave me a knife
Moon slit my wrist
Moon a wonderful bliss
What I want to say
Moon after day!
Moon Moon
When Moon Moon says
In case of me
To be a quite poet is possible
In addition, I have to be a cool.
When Moon Moon says
The days have to face
Good ways
To begin its first hour
To get its special power.
When Moon Moon says
I cannot hear anybody’s voice
When Moon Moon says
I can realize my age
To do something better
Not caring any matter.
When Moon Moon says
I can guess
She says something special
Those are needed for all.
When Moon Moon says
I have to face
Some case in any case.
When Moon Moon says
Sometimes, no case can be found
Without she says, like
“Hi! How are you
For the few
With your near dear
Are there any tears in your eyes?
When she says…”
Man can be silent
Ocean can be island
He can be brilliant
Even
You can be toys
When Moon Moon says.
When Moon Moon says
All guys are nice
To play with their lives.
When Moon Moon says
Everything seems to us
Like a touch
Of heart,
And
That is a part
Of our life
To survive.
When Moon Moon says
Man pays attention much
Because, what she says, is a touch.
If Moon Moon doesn’t say anything
Then for her not saying
All will be dying.
When she stops saying
Everything seems to me lying.
When she will say
I may
Wait for her
Than other
For sine-dine
Even until I die.
poem by Manir Hossain
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Here Comes The Moon
Everybodys talking up a storm
Act like they dont notice it
But here it is and here it comes . . .
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Impulse always quickens when its full
As it turns my head around me
Yes it does and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Gods gift I see thats moving up there into the night . . .
Though dark the mirror in the sky reflects us our light:
Looks like a little brother to the sun
Or mother to the stars at night
And here it is and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Breath is always taken when its new
Enhance upon the clouds around it
Yes it is and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon.
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Moon
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou seemest most charming to my sight;
As I gaze upon thee in the sky so high,
A tear of joy does moisten mine eye.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the Esquimau in the night;
For thou lettest him see to harpoon the fish,
And with them he makes a dainty dish.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the fox in the night,
And lettest him see to steal the grey goose away
Out of the farm-yard from a stack of hay.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the farmer in the night,
and makes his heart beat high with delight
As he views his crops by the light in the night.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the eagle in the night,
And lettest him see to devour his prey
And carry it to his nest away.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the mariner in the night
As he paces the deck alone,
Thinking of his dear friends at home.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the weary traveller in the night;
For thou lightest up the wayside around
To him when he is homeward bound.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the lovers in the night
As they walk through the shady groves alone,
Making love to each other before they go home.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the poacher in the night;
For thou lettest him see to set his snares
To catch the rabbit and the hares.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Man In The Moon
Moon in your splendor,
Shine your light on me,
Blue moon, half moon,
Makes no difference,
You see, to me you will always be
The man in the moon,
Who lights the way, for my love,
So he can open my heart with his key.
Man in the moon, silvery moon
Light my life with thee.
poem by Melba Durham
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The Painter on Silk
There was a man
Who made his living
By painting roses
Upon silk.
He sat in an upper chamber
And painted,
And the noises of the street
Meant nothing to him.
When he heard bugles, and fifes, and drums,
He thought of red, and yellow, and white roses
Bursting in the sunshine,
And smiled as he worked.
He thought only of roses,
And silk.
When he could get no more silk
He stopped painting
And only thought
Of roses.
The day the conquerors
Entered the city,
The old man
Lay dying.
He heard the bugles and drums,
And wished he could paint the roses
Bursting into sound.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Sound Of Drums
I hear the sound of drums on a melody
I hear the sound of drums
Well, singing the names above in the city
Yeah, revolution for fun
I feel the time has come like a remody
I feel the time has come
Were shaking the spear of love in the city
Yeah, I hear the sound of drums
Yeah, can you feel the love for me, yeah yeah
I feel the time has come
I hear the sound of drums
I hear the sound of drums on a melody,
Calling me to return
Well, I laugh and catch the sun
cause its gonna be revolution for fun
Yeah, can you feel the love for me, yeah yeah
I feel the time has come
I hear the sound of drums..oh oohh...
Well, I feel the time has come with the melody
I see the golden one
Well, Im not the only one with the remedy
Im not the only one
I feel the time has come
I hear the sound of drums
song performed by by Kula Shaker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soldiers
Do I hear what I think Im hearing?
Do I see the signs I think I see?
Or is this just a fantasy?
Is it true that the beast is waking
Stirring in his restless sleep tonight
In the pale moonlight
In the grip of this cold december
You and I have reason to remember
Soldiers write the songs that soldiers sing
The songs that you and I dont sing
They blow their horns and march along
They drum their drums and look so strong
Youd think that nothing in the world was wrong
Soldiers write the songs that soldiers sing
The songs that you and I wont sing
Lets not look the other way
Taking a chance
cause if the bugler starts to play
We too must dance
Whats that sound, whats that dreadful rumble?
Wont somebody tell me what I hear?
In the distance but drawing near
Is it only a storm approaching?
All that thunder and the blinding light
In the winter night
In the grip of this cold december
You and I have reason to remember
Soldiers write the songs that soldiers sing
The songs that you and I dont sing
They blow their horns and march along
They drum their drums and look so strong
Youd think that nothing in the world was wrong
Soldiers write the songs that soldiers sing
The songs that you and I wont sing
Lets not look the other way
Taking a chance
cause if the bugler starts to play
We too must dance
Soldiers write the songs that soldiers sing
The songs that you and I wont sing
Lets not look the other way
Taking a chance
cause if the bugler starts to play
We too must dance
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost without a moon
Where has this moon gone?
the moon that used to brighten up
the night sky,
And the moon that used to shine
Brighter than any star,
The moon that used to bring to me
This beautiful light,
For this moon used to lighten up
My heart,
Now that this moon is gone
I must rely on the stars
to bring me light,
This moon left me alone,
alone to suffer and think
empty thoughts,
And now i know that
I am lost,
Oh where has this moon gone?
poem by Oscar Aceves
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Heart's Embrace
for ever shall this curse me?
this fire with it's amazing warmth and beauty
for ever shall i see you in the sky
ur shinning light of care, a lie?
for you will chose the moon, to let your soul fly
she is beautiful how ever am i to deny
im just the water, within the earths embrace
im a silvery thing attached to the moon with a thin lace
for ever shall i see the face
the shinning light above this place
you will choose the moon, to let your hearts combined
in not in the air or the sky, i can see you sun; i am not blind
my moon my moon hear me do you mind?
i am here and you are there; and your smiling so kind.
i am just a moving mirror, reflecting your light
within my beloved earths embrace day and night
could you forgive me my moon for my fright?
could you forgive me my earth for my delight?
could you love me the same my moon?
could you still smile down on me, if you knew my heart's boon?
could you hold me the same my earth, in your embrace if i sang a new tune?
coul you still fill me with light my sun, and sing attune?
for i should not ask for such things
i should answer all of the with great greetings
my moon, my dearest light of silver lace, you should not know of my ravings
my earth my dearest earth with your loving embrace, you shouldnt know of my quislings.
this should haunt me no more
its been open my moon, your magic door
so in twilight that is yet to come, you my moon and my sun may adore
and ill be here your mirror in my earth embrace, hiding my watery hearts face forever more
poem by Elenore Elizabeth
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Axiom of Life
In my eyes of heart
In my heart of eyes
Magical moon had lit
Many stars smiled
Over my clouded heart
On my drums of heart
On my heart of drums
Songs played magically
Music oozed slowly
Over my beat less heart
To my dreams of heart
To my heart of dreams
Life roused freshly
Smile smiled smilingly
On dry lips of my heart
For my life of heart
For my heart of life
Colors faded naturally
Season changed timely
For me to be my part
poem by Kranthi Pothineni
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Moon, We Look to You.
Moon, you have a shade of blue tonight –
Is it something that you saw or heard?
Only yesterday, your tone was proud and bright,
Yellow silver, full, and so assured.
Moon, despite the clarity of sky,
Metaphors of cloud that fluff with grey
Drift across your rounded face to spy;
Feeding back, there's awfully much to say.
Moon, you have a role to play up there –
We below must bear the earthly pain.
Duty bound, we shoulder sorrows fair –
You are free from our grotesque disdain.
Moon, we depend on you to shine
When the sun retires down below.
Add to that your grandest role divine:
Tidal Lord, to keep the seas in tow!
Moon, I hope you take to heart our plea –
Needless is the reason for your blue.
Beaming, you should give the night its glee:
We're despairing – so we look to you.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Two Moon Junction
I want to be there in the ‘Two Moon Junction’ For Ever.
Where these two moons are competing with each other.
The First Moon which we see in the sky was as usually illuminating and his golden moon light enhancing the feel of romantic weather further more.
Where as the other moon was seated along with me in the garden of flowers, which had blossomed in the mid night assuming the double moon light as Sunrise.
The Moon on the Earth is my love, Laughing with me, Fighting with me, teasing me with her looks and talks and promising her presence in my life at good and bad times. Assuring me that life is so beautiful when the trio is together, She me and the full moon in sky.
I want to be there in the “Two Moon Junction” ‘Forever’ and ever.
poem by IndraNeel SatyaNaga
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Dead Soldiers, And Bones!
dead soldiers...
beating on tin drums
with bones,
that used to wear faces!
small children singing,
songs of coming and going,
leaving the eerie taste
of things forgotten.
the field fresh plowed,
drowned by morning rain,
waits for the bodies
that seed the future.
while priests chant
neath stained glass windows.
the sun weary with bringing,
finds its way on the path.
the fresh dug graves
mourn with the ache,
longing for the thrust
of love's denial.
and dead soldiers march
across fog driven plains,
beating on tin drums
with bones,
that used to wear faces!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Dirge For A Soldier
In the east the morning comes,
Hear the rollin' of the drums
On the hill.
But the heart that beat as they beat
In the battle's raging day heat
Lieth still.
Unto him the night has come,
Though they roll the morning drum.
What is in the bugle's blast?
It is: 'Victory at last!
Now for rest.'
But, my comrades, come behold him,
Where our colors now enfold him,
And his breast
Bares no more to meet the blade,
But lies covered in the shade.
What a stir there is to-day!
They are laying him away
Where he fell.
There the flag goes draped before him;
Now they pile the grave sod o'er him
With a knell.
And he answers to his name
In the higher ranks of fame.
There's a woman left to mourn
For the child that she has borne
In travail.
But her heart beats high and higher,
With the patriot mother's fire,
At the tale.
She has borne and lost a son,
But her work and his are done.
Fling the flag out, let it wave;
They 're returning from the grave--
'Double quick!'
And the cymbals now are crashing,
Bright his comrades' eyes are flashing
From the thick
Battle-ranks which knew him brave,
No tears for a hero's grave.
In the east the morning comes,
Hear the rattle of the drums
Far away.
Now no time for grief's pursuing,
Other work is for the doing,
Here to-day.
He is sleeping, let him rest
With the flag across his breast.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Moon
The moon hangs in the sky, shining so bright;
Everything below, enveloped in a silvery light.
Once darkened corners, are now subtlely lit,
As, silhouetted against the moon, bats now flit.
The moon appears early, on a winter’s afternoon;
Aware that the onset of darkness, will begin soon.
Occasionally, we get to witness a solar eclipse,
When the moon, in front of the sun’s face, slips.
The milky moon, reflected on the restless ocean,
Highlights the wild water’s never ending motion.
A silvery ribbon stretches from horizon to shore;
A mesmerising sight which, many people adore.
This celestial light is totally natural in its source:
Commanding tides, with a strong, gravitational force.
The moon waxes and wanes, from full to crescent:
Whatever form it takes, the view is always pleasant.
Everything in sight, is painted with a silvery splash,
As darkness and light, now mix together, and clash.
From the moon, there radiates a milky, white glow,
Which kisses everything, in its path, down below.
Illuminated by the sun, the moon appears to shine;
But this is all down to its make-up and clever design.
The moon is highlighted against the black, velvet sky,
And will still be hanging there, years after we all die.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Confabulation
Moon? Moon? Do you hear me?
if you hear me
Think of me and answer me why do I cry every night?
How patient you are, moon? Moon? Do you know why we are wrong? Moon? Moon? I heard that you can pray, How near to God you are, moon? moon? hurts hurt us please pray for us, you are our guiding light in depth of nights, give us your purity
because we are about to lose the purity
poem by Baharak Barzin
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Between me and the Silvery Moon
In between me
and the silvery moon
There is my dreams of you
For whom I swoon
The stars and the moon
They whisper at night
As we embrace each other
Beneath their silvery light
They watch as we dance
Our eyes in a silvery gaze
The stars twinkle to the moon
Lost in a romantic haze
All my dreams come true
When for you I swoon
In between me
and the silvery moon
poem by Priya Patel
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