O the precipice Titanic Of the congregated Fall, And the angle oceanic
When Sunday tidings from the front Made pale the priest and people, And heavily the blessing went,
(November, 1863.) A kindling impulse seized the host Inspired by heaven's elastic air;[10]
To have known him, to have loved him After loneness long; And then to be estranged in life,
These flags of armies overthrown - Flags fallen beneath the sovereign one In end foredoomed which closes war;
Wandering late by morning seas When my heart with pain was low-- Hate the censor pelted me--
In shards the sylvan vases lie, Their links of dance undone, And brambles wither by thy brim,
The cavalry-camp lies on the slope Of what was late a vernal hill, But now like a pavement bare -
There is a coal-black Angel With a thick Afric lip, And he dwells (like the hunted and harried)