The Advance Guard
In the dream of the Northern poets,
The brave who in battle die
Fight on in shadowy phalanx
In the field of the upper sky;
And as we read the sounding rhyme,
The reverent fancy hears
The ghostly ring of the viewless swords
And the clash of the spectral spears.
We think with imperious questionings
Of the brothers whom we have lost,
And we strive to track in death's mystery
The flight of each valiant ghost.
The Northern myth comes back to us,
And we feel, through our sorrow's night,
That those young souls are striving still
Somewhere for the truth and light.
It was not their time for rest and sleep;
Their hearts beat high and strong;
In their fresh veins the blood of youth
Was singing its hot, sweet song.
The open heaven bent over them,
Mid flowers their lithe feet trod,
Their lives lay vivid in light, and blest
By the smiles of women and God.
Again they come! Again I hear
The tread of that goodly band;
I know the flash of Ellsworth's eye
And the grasp of his hard, warm hand;
And Putnam, and Shaw, of the lion-heart,
And an eye like a Boston girl's;
And I see the light of heaven which lay
On UIric Dahlgren's curls.
There is no power in the gloom of hell
To quench those spirits' fire;
There is no power in the bliss of heaven
To bid them not aspire;
But somewhere in the eternal plan
That strength, that life survive,
And like the files on Lookout's crest,
Above death's clouds they strive.
A chosen corps, they are marching on
In a wider field than ours;
Those bright battalions still fulfill
The scheme of the heavenly powers;
And high brave thoughts float down to us,
The echoes of that far fight,
Like the flash of a distant picket's gun
Through the shades of the severing night.
No fear for them! In our lower field
Let us keep our arms unstained,
That at last we be worthy to stand with them
On the shining heights they've gained.
We shall meet and greet in closing ranks
In Time's declining sun,
When the bugles of God shall sound recall
And the battle of life be won.
Distichs
I
Wisely a woman prefers to a lover a man who neglects her.
This one may love her some day, some day the lover will not.
II
There are three species of creatures who when they seem coming are going,
When they seem going they come: Diplomates, women, and crabs.
III
Pleasures too hastily tasted grow sweeter in fond recollection,
As the pomegranate plucked green ripens far over the sea.
IV
As the meek beasts in the Garden came flocking for Adam to name them,
Men for a title to-day crawl to the feet of a king.
V
What is a first love worth, except to prepare for a second?
What does the second love bring? Only regret for the first.
VI
Health was wooed by the Romans in groves of the laurel and myrtle.
Happy and long are the lives brightened by glory and love.
VII
Wine is like rain: when it falls on the mire it but makes it the fouler,
But when it strikes the good soil wakes it to beauty and bloom.
VIII
Break not the rose; its fragrance and beauty are surely sufficient:
Resting contented with these, never a thorn shall you feel.
IX
When you break up housekeeping, you learn the extent of your treasures;
Till he begins to reform, no one can number his sins.
X
Maidens! why should you worry in choosing whom you shall marry?
Choose whom you may, you will find you have got somebody else.
XI
Unto each man comes a day when his favorite sins all forsake him,
And he complacently thinks he has forsaken his sins.
XII
Be not too anxious to gain your next-door neighbor's approval:
Live your own life, and let him strive your approval to gain.
XIII
Who would succeed in the world should be wise in the use of his pronouns.
Utter the You twenty times, where you once utter the I.
XIV
The best loved man or maid in the town would perish with anguish
Could they hear all that their friends say in the course of a day.
XV
True luck consists not in holding the best of the cards at the table:
Luckiest he who knows just when to rise and go home.
XVI
Pleasant enough it is to hear the world speak of your virtues;
But in your secret heart 't is of your faults you are proud.
XVII
Try not to beat back the current, yet be not drowned in its waters;
Speak with the speech of the world, think with the thoughts of the few.
XVIII
Make all good men your well-wishers, and then, in the years' steady sifting,
Some of them turn into friends. Friends are the sun shine of life.
