Ode in Memory of the American Volunteers Fallen for France

I

Ay, it is fitting on this holiday,Commemorative of our soldier dead,When -- with sweet flowers of our New England MayHiding the lichened stones by fifty years made gray --5Their graves in every town are garlanded,That pious tribute should be given tooTo our intrepid fewObscurely fallen here beyond the seas.Those to preserve their country's greatness died;10But by the death of theseSomething that we can look upon with prideHas been achieved, nor wholly unrepliedCan sneerers triumph in the charge they makeThat from a war where Freedom was at stake15America withheld and, daunted, stood aside.

II

Be they remembered here with each reviving spring,Not only that in May, when life is loveliest,Around Neuville-Saint-Vaast and the disputed crest20Of Vimy, they, superb, unfaltering,In that fine onslaught that no fire could halt,Parted impetuous to their first assault;But that they brought fresh hearts and springlike tooTo that high mission, and 'tis meet to strew25With twigs of lilac and spring's earliest roseThe cenotaph of thoseWho in the cause that history most endearsFell in the sunny morn and flower of their young years.

III30

et sought they neither recompense nor praise,Nor to be mentioned in another breathThan their blue coated comrades whose great daysIt was their pride to share -- ay, share even to the death!Nay, rather, France, to you they rendered thanks35(Seeing they came for honor, not for gain),Who, opening to them your glorious ranks,Gave them that grand occasion to excel,That chance to live the life most free from stainAnd that rare privilege of dying well.40

IV

O friends! I know not since that war beganFrom which no people nobly stands aloofIf in all moments we have given proofOf virtues that were thought American.45I know not if in all things done and saidAll has been well and good,Or if each one of us can hold his headAs proudly as he should,Or, from the pattern of those mighty dead50Whose shades our country venerates to-day,

If we've not somewhat fallen and somewhat gone astray.But you to whom our land's good name is dear,If there be any hereWho wonder if her manhood be decreased,55Relaxed its sinews and its blood less redThan that at Shiloh and Antietam shed,Be proud of these, have joy in this at least,And cry: "Now heaven be praisedThat in that hour that most imperilled her,60Menaced her liberty who foremost raisedEurope's bright flag of freedom, some there wereWho, not unmindful of the antique debt,Came back the generous path of Lafayette;And when of a most formidable foe65She checked each onset, arduous to stem --Foiled and frustrated them --On those red fields where blow with furious blowWas countered, whether the gigantic frayRolled by the Meuse or at the Bois Sabot,70Accents of ours were in the fierce melee;And on those furthest rims of hallowed groundWhere the forlorn, the gallant charge expires,When the slain bugler has long ceased to sound,And on the tangled wires75The last wild rally staggers, crumbles, stops,Withered beneath the shrapnel's iron showers: --Now heaven be thanked, we gave a few brave drops;Now heaven be thanked, a few brave drops were ours."

V80

There, holding still, in frozen steadfastness,Their bayonets toward the beckoning frontiers,They lie -- our comrades -- lie among their peers,Clad in the glory of fallen warriors,Grim clusters under thorny trellises,85Dry, furthest foam upon disastrous shores,Leaves that made last year beautiful, still strewnEven as they fell, unchanged, beneath the changing moon;And earth in her divine indifferenceRolls on, and many paltry things and mean90Prate to be heard and caper to be seen.But they are silent, calm; their eloquenceIs that incomparable attitude;No human presences their witness are,But summer clouds and sunset crimson-hued,95And showers and night winds and the northern star.Nay, even our salutations seem profane,Opposed to their Elysian quietude;Our salutations calling from afar,From our ignobler plane100And undistinction of our lesser parts:Hail, brothers, and farewell; you are twice blest, brave hearts.Double your glory is who perished thus,For you have died for France and vindicated us.