reaches his destination,
More than I have charged myself, heeded or unheeded, to compose a
march for these States,
For a battle-call, rousing to arms if need be, years, centuries
hence.



YEAR THAT TREMBLED AND REEL'D BENEATH ME.


Year that trembled and reel'd beneath me!
Your summer wind was warm enough, yet the air I breathed froze me,
A thick gloom fell through the sunshine and darken'd me,
Must I change my triumphant songs? said I to myself,
Must I indeed learn to chant the cold dirges of the baffled?
And sullen hymns of defeat?



THE WOUND-DRESSER.


1

An old man bending I come among new faces,
Years looking backward resuming in answer to children,
Come tell us old man, as from young men and maidens that love me,
(Arous'd and angry, I'd thought to beat the alarum, and urge
relentless war,