New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1869-07-02
DEDICATION ODE.
FOR THE NATIONAL CEMETERY AT GETTYSBURG
July /, 1859.


AFTER the eyes that looked, the lips that spako
Here from the shadows of impending deatD,
Those words Of solemn breath,
What voice may ftly break
The silence, doubly hallowed left by himi
We can but bow the head, with eyes grown dim,
And rs Nations litany, repeat
Thcphraso his martyr1om hath made complete
Noble as then. but now more sadly-sweet;
Let us. the Living rather dedicate
Ourselves to the unfinished work. which they
Thus far advanced so nobly on its way
And save the periled Stateli
Let u.s. upon this field where they. the brave,
Their last full measure Of devotion gave,
Highly resolve they have not died in yain-
That under Cod the Nations later birth
OfFrccdom. and the Peoples gain
or their own Sovereignty, shall never wano
And perish from the circle of the earthP
From such perfect text shall Song aspire
To light IT, faded fire.
And into wandering music turn
It's virtue, simple, souowtul and sterni
His voice al olegies anticipated;
For whatsOeer the strain
We hear that one refrain:
"Wo consccratc ourselves to them tho Consecrated"
After the thunderstorm our heaven is blue:
Far-oI. along the borders Of the sky,
In silver folds the clouds of battle lie.
With soft, consoling sunlight shining through;
And round the sweeping circle OF your hills
The crashing cannon-thrills
Have faded from the memory Of the air;
And Summer pours from uueXhausted fountains
Her bliss on yonder mountains:
Tho camps are tenantless, the breastworks bare:
Earth keeps no stain where hero-blood was poured :
The hornets, humming on their wings Of lead.
Have ceased TO sting their angry swarms are dead,
And, harmless in It's scabblrd, rusts the swordl
Oh not till now-oh, now dare, at last,
To give our heroes fitting consecrationl
Not I'm the soreness of the strife is past
And Peace hath comforted the weary Nation!
So long her sad, indignant spirit held
One keen regret, one throb Of pain, unquelled,
So long the land about her feet was waste,
The ashes of tho burning lay upon her,
We stood beside their graves with brows abased,
Waiting the purer mood to do them honorl
They, through the flames of this dread holocaust,
The patriots wrath, the soldiers ardor, lost:
They sit above us and above our passion,
Disparaged even by our human tears
Beholding truth our race, perchance may fashion
In the slow Judgment Of the creeping years.
We saw the still reproof upon their faces;
To-day ye gricvc: come not to MS with sorrow
Wait for the glad. the reconciled Tomorrow
Your grief but clouds the ether where we dwell;
Your anger keeps your souls and ours aparti
But como with peace and pardon, all is we'll!
Aud como with love- we touch you, heart to heart {"
Immortal Brothers. We have heard
Our lips declare the reconciling word:
For Rnttla tauuht that n fage Ia fnra
Tho stubborn temper of the race
And both, from fields no longer alien, come,
TO graudor action equally invited
Marshaled by Learuing's trump, by Labor's drum,
In strife that purhes and makes uuitedi
We force 70 build, the powers that would destroy;
The muscles, hardened by the sabre's grasp
Now give our hands iirmer clasp;
We bring not grief to you, but solemn joyl
And feeling you near
Look forward with your eyos, dIyinely cleak
To some sublimely-perfect. sacred year,
Whom sons OF fathers whom so oVcrcame
Forget in mutual pride the partial blame,
And join with us, TO set the final crown
Upon your dear renown-
Tho Peoples Union in heart and name
And yet, ye Dead!-and yet
Our cloudcd natures cling TO one regret;
We are not all resigned
To yield, with even mind.
Our scarcely stars, that here untlm ely set.
We needs must think of History that waits
For lines that live but in their proud beginning
Arrested promises and cheated fates-
Youths boundlcss venture and its single winning.
We zee the ghosts OF deeds they might have done.
The phantom homes that beaconed their endeayor;
The seeds Of countless lives, in them begun,
That might have multiplied for us foreyeRl
We grudge the better strain OF men
That proved itself, and was oxhnguished thon--
The field, with strength and hope thicllly sown.
Whorefrom no other harvest shall be mown:
For all the land within its clasping seas,
Is poorer now in bravery and beauty,
Such wealth Of manly loves and energies
Was given to teach us all the free mans sacred duty
Again It's they, the Dead.
by whom our hearts are comforted.
Deep as the land blown murmurs of the wayea
The answer cometh from thousand graves;
" Not Sol we arc not orphaned of our fatel
lhongh life were warmest and though love wer,
sweetest,
We stll have portion in their best estate:
oar fortune Is the iairest and complotestl
Our homes nIe everywhere our loves aro set
In hearts oi man and woman, sweet and yeual.
Courage anu Truth tAe eAildep We beOeL