Hymn of Dead Soldiers

ONE breath, O my silent soul,

A perfum'd thought—no more I ask, for the sake of all dead soldiers.

Buglers off in my armies!

At present I ask not you to sound;

Not at the head of my cavalry, all on their spirited horses,

With their sabres drawn and glist'ning, and carbines clanking by their thighs—(ah, my brave horse-menhorsemen!

My handsome, tan-faced horsemen! what life, what joy and pride,

With all the perils, were yours!)

Nor you drummers—neither at reveille, at dawn,

Nor the long roll alarming the camp—nor even the muffled beat for a burial;

Nothing from you, this time, O drummers, bearing my warlike drums.

But aside from these, and the crowd's hurrahs, and the land's congratulations,

Admitting around me comrades close, unseen by the the rest, and voiceless,

I chant this chant of my silent soul, in the name of all dead soldiers.

Faces so pale, with wondrous eyes, very dear, gather closer yet;

Draw close, but speak not.

Phantoms, welcome, divine and tender!

Invisible to the rest, henceforth become my compan-ionscompanions;

Follow me ever! desert me not, while I live.

Sweet are the blooming cheeks of the living! sweet are the musical voices sounding!

But sweet, ah sweet, are the dead, with their silent eyes.

Dearest comrades! all now is over;

But love is not over—and what love, O comrades!

Perfume from battle-fields rising—up from fœtor arising.

Perfume therefore my chant, O love! immortal Love!

Give me to bathe the memories of all dead soldiers.

Perfume all! make all wholesome!

O love! O chant! solve all with the last chemistry.

Give me exhaustless—make me a fountain,

That I exhale love from me wherever I go,

For the sake of all dead soldiers.