Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/157

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137
The angel sighed. "That means," it said,
"Tumult and anguish, pain and death,
And countless sons of men borne down
By the fierce cannon's breath!"

Then passed from sight the heavenly guest,
And from the mountain-top again
Took its far flight from North to South,
Above the homes of men.

But still, where'er it went, it saw
The starry banners half mast high,
And tower and turret hung with black
Against the reddening sky!

Still saw long ranks of armèd men
Who for the blue had worn the gray—
Still saw the sad processions pass,
Darkening the summer day!

"Was this their conqueror whom you mourn?"
The angel said to one who kept
Lone watch where, deep in grass-grown graves,
Young Southern soldiers slept.

"Victor, yet friend," the answer came,
"Even theirs who here their life-blood poured!
He, when the bitter field was won,
Was first to sheathe the sword,

"And cry: 'O brothers, take my hand—
Brave foemen, let us be at peace!
O'er all the undivided land
Let clash of conflict cease!'"

The wondering angel went its way
From world to world, from star to star,