By Blue Ontario’s Shore
11 For the great Idea, That, O my brethren, that is the mission of poets. Songs of stern defiance ever ready, Songs of the rapid arming and the march, The flag of peace quick-folded, and instead the flag we know, Warlike flag of the great Idea. (Angry cloth I saw there leaping! I stand again in leaden rain your flapping folds saluting, I sing you over all, flying beckoning through the fight—O the hard-contested fight! The cannons ope their rosy-flashing muzzles—the hurtled balls scream, The battle-front forms amid the smoke—the volleys pour incessant from the line, Hark, the ringing word Charge!—now the tussle and the furious maddening yells, Now the corpses tumble curl'd upon the ground, Cold, cold in death, for precious life of you, Angry cloth I saw there leaping.)
Posted on 17/03/2015, in literature, poetry and tagged 19th Century Poetry, American literature, American poets, Daily Whitman, free verse, Leaves of Grass, literature, poems, poetry, Transcendentalists, Walt Whitman. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.