Poem of the Day , 2 - 13
Drum - Taps
by Walt Whitman
Aroused and angry ,
I thought to beat the alarum , and urge relentless war ;
But soon my fingers fail ’ d me , my face droop ’ d , and I resign ’ d myself ,
To sit by the wounded and soothe them , or silently watch the dead .
1
FIRST , O songs , for a prelude ,
Lightly strike on the stretch ’ d tympanum , pride and joy in my city ,
How she led the rest to arms — how she gave the cue ,
How at once with lithe limbs , unwaiting a moment , she sprang ;
( O superb ! O Manhattan , my own , my peerless !
O strongest you in the hour of danger , in crisis ! O truer than steel !)
How you sprang ! how you threw off the costumes of peace with indifferent hand ;
How your soft opera - music changed , and the drum and fife were heard in their stead ;
How you led to the war , ( that shall serve for our prelude , songs of soldiers ,)
How Manhattan drum - taps led .
2
Forty years had I in my city seen soldiers parading ;
Forty years as a pageant — till unawares , the Lady of this teeming and turbulent city ,
Sleepless amid her ships , her houses , her incalculable wealth ,
With her million children around her — suddenly ,
At dead of night , at news from the south ,
Incens ’ d , struck with clench ’ d hand the pavement .
A shock electric — the night sustain ’ d it ;
Till with ominous hum , our hive at day - break pour ’ d out its myriads .
From the houses then , and the workshops , and through all the doorways ,
Leapt they tumultuous — and lo ! Manhattan arming .
3
To the drum - taps prompt ,
The young men falling in and arming ;
The mechanics arming , ( the trowel , the jack - plane , the blacksmith ’ s hammer , tost aside with precipitation )
The lawyer leaving his office , and arming — the judge leaving the court ;
The driver deserting his wagon in the street , jumping down , throwing the reins abruptly down on the horses ’ backs ;
The salesman leaving the store — the boss , book - keeper , porter , all leaving ;
Squads gather everywhere by common consent , and arm ;
The new recruits , even boys — the old men show them how to wear their accoutrements — they buckle the straps carefully ;
Outdoors arming — indoors arming — the flash of the musket - barrels ;
The white tents cluster in camps — the arm ’ d sentries around — the sunrise cannon , and again at sunset ;
Arm ’ d regiments arrive every day , pass through the city , and embark from the wharves ;
( How good they look , as they tramp down to the river , sweaty , with their guns on their shoulders !
How I love them ! how I could hug them , with their brown faces , and their clothes and knapsacks cover ’ d with dust !)
The blood of the city up — arm ’ d ! arm ’ d ! the cry everywhere ;
The flags flung out from the steeples of churches , and from all the public buildings and stores ;
The tearful parting — the mother kisses her son — the son kisses his mother ;
( Loth is the mother to part — yet not a word does she speak to detain him )
The tumultuous escort — the ranks of policemen preceding , clearing the way ;
The unpent enthusiasm — the wild cheers of the crowd for their favorites ;
The artillery — the silent cannons , bright as gold , drawn along , rumble lightly over the stones ;
( Silent cannons — soon to cease your silence !
Soon , unlimber ’ d , to begin the red business )
All the mutter of preparation — all the determin ’ d arming ;
The hospital service — the lint , bandages , and medicines ;
The women volunteering for nurses — the work begun for , in earnest — no mere parade now ;
War ! an arm ’ d race is advancing !— the welcome for battle — no turning away ;
War ! be it weeks , months , or years — an arm ’ d race is advancing to welcome it .
4
Mannahatta a - march !— and it ’ s O to sing it well !
It ’ s O for a manly life in the camp !
And the sturdy artillery !
The guns , bright as gold — the work for giants — to serve well the guns :
Unlimber them ! no more , as the past forty years , for salutes for courtesies merely ;
Put in something else now besides powder and wadding .
5
And you , Lady of Ships ! you Mannahatta !
Old matron of this proud , friendly , turbulent city !
Often in peace and wealth you were pensive , or covertly frown ’ d amid all your children ;
But now you smile with joy , exulting old Mannahatta !
[This message has been edited by CShine (edited February 13, 2002).]
Drum - Taps
by Walt Whitman
Aroused and angry ,
I thought to beat the alarum , and urge relentless war ;
But soon my fingers fail ’ d me , my face droop ’ d , and I resign ’ d myself ,
To sit by the wounded and soothe them , or silently watch the dead .
1
FIRST , O songs , for a prelude ,
Lightly strike on the stretch ’ d tympanum , pride and joy in my city ,
How she led the rest to arms — how she gave the cue ,
How at once with lithe limbs , unwaiting a moment , she sprang ;
( O superb ! O Manhattan , my own , my peerless !
O strongest you in the hour of danger , in crisis ! O truer than steel !)
How you sprang ! how you threw off the costumes of peace with indifferent hand ;
How your soft opera - music changed , and the drum and fife were heard in their stead ;
How you led to the war , ( that shall serve for our prelude , songs of soldiers ,)
How Manhattan drum - taps led .
2
Forty years had I in my city seen soldiers parading ;
Forty years as a pageant — till unawares , the Lady of this teeming and turbulent city ,
Sleepless amid her ships , her houses , her incalculable wealth ,
With her million children around her — suddenly ,
At dead of night , at news from the south ,
Incens ’ d , struck with clench ’ d hand the pavement .
A shock electric — the night sustain ’ d it ;
Till with ominous hum , our hive at day - break pour ’ d out its myriads .
From the houses then , and the workshops , and through all the doorways ,
Leapt they tumultuous — and lo ! Manhattan arming .
3
To the drum - taps prompt ,
The young men falling in and arming ;
The mechanics arming , ( the trowel , the jack - plane , the blacksmith ’ s hammer , tost aside with precipitation )
The lawyer leaving his office , and arming — the judge leaving the court ;
The driver deserting his wagon in the street , jumping down , throwing the reins abruptly down on the horses ’ backs ;
The salesman leaving the store — the boss , book - keeper , porter , all leaving ;
Squads gather everywhere by common consent , and arm ;
The new recruits , even boys — the old men show them how to wear their accoutrements — they buckle the straps carefully ;
Outdoors arming — indoors arming — the flash of the musket - barrels ;
The white tents cluster in camps — the arm ’ d sentries around — the sunrise cannon , and again at sunset ;
Arm ’ d regiments arrive every day , pass through the city , and embark from the wharves ;
( How good they look , as they tramp down to the river , sweaty , with their guns on their shoulders !
How I love them ! how I could hug them , with their brown faces , and their clothes and knapsacks cover ’ d with dust !)
The blood of the city up — arm ’ d ! arm ’ d ! the cry everywhere ;
The flags flung out from the steeples of churches , and from all the public buildings and stores ;
The tearful parting — the mother kisses her son — the son kisses his mother ;
( Loth is the mother to part — yet not a word does she speak to detain him )
The tumultuous escort — the ranks of policemen preceding , clearing the way ;
The unpent enthusiasm — the wild cheers of the crowd for their favorites ;
The artillery — the silent cannons , bright as gold , drawn along , rumble lightly over the stones ;
( Silent cannons — soon to cease your silence !
Soon , unlimber ’ d , to begin the red business )
All the mutter of preparation — all the determin ’ d arming ;
The hospital service — the lint , bandages , and medicines ;
The women volunteering for nurses — the work begun for , in earnest — no mere parade now ;
War ! an arm ’ d race is advancing !— the welcome for battle — no turning away ;
War ! be it weeks , months , or years — an arm ’ d race is advancing to welcome it .
4
Mannahatta a - march !— and it ’ s O to sing it well !
It ’ s O for a manly life in the camp !
And the sturdy artillery !
The guns , bright as gold — the work for giants — to serve well the guns :
Unlimber them ! no more , as the past forty years , for salutes for courtesies merely ;
Put in something else now besides powder and wadding .
5
And you , Lady of Ships ! you Mannahatta !
Old matron of this proud , friendly , turbulent city !
Often in peace and wealth you were pensive , or covertly frown ’ d amid all your children ;
But now you smile with joy , exulting old Mannahatta !
[This message has been edited by CShine (edited February 13, 2002).]
