Black Beetles in Amber - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 18
TO E.S. SALOMON
Who in a Memorial Day oration protested bitterly against
decorating the graves of Confederate dead.
What! Salomon! such words from you, Who call yourself a soldier? Well, The Southern brother where he fellSlept all your base oration through.Alike to him—he cannot know Your praise or blame: as little harm Your tongue can do him as your armA quarter-century ago.The brave respect the brave. The brave Respect the dead; but you—you draw That ancient blade, the ass's jaw,And shake it o'er a hero's grave.Are you not he who makes to-day A merchandise of old renown Which he persuades this easy townHe won in battle far away?Nay, those the fallen who revile Have ne'er before the living stood And stoutly made their battle goodAnd greeted danger with a smile.What if the dead whom still you hate Were wrong? Are you so surely right? We know the issue of the fight—The sword is but an advocate.Men live and die, and other men Arise with knowledges diverse: What seemed a blessing seems a curse,And Now is still at odds with Then.The years go on, the old comes back To mock the new—beneath the sun. Is nothing new; ideas runRecurrent in an endless track.What most we censure, men as wise Have reverently practiced; nor Will future wisdom fail to warOn principles we dearly prize.We do not know—we can but deem, And he is loyalest and best Who takes the light full on his breastAnd follows it throughout the dream.The broken light, the shadows wide— Behold the battle-field displayed! God save the vanquished from the blade,The victor from the victor's pride!If, Salomon, the blessed dew That falls upon the Blue and Gray Is powerless to wash awayThe sin of differing from you.Remember how the flood of years Has rolled across the erring slain; Remember, too, the cleansing rainOf widows' and of orphans' tears.The dead are dead—let that atone: And though with equal hand we strew The blooms on saint and sinner too,Yet God will know to choose his own.The wretch, whate'er his life and lot, Who does not love the harmless dead With all his heart and all his head—May God forgive him—I shall not.When, Salomon, you come to quaff The Darker Cup with meeker face, I, loving you at last, shall traceUpon your tomb this epitaph:"Draw near, ye generous and brave— Kneel round this monument and weep: It covers one who tried to keepA flower from a dead man's grave."