| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (18331908). An American Anthology, 17871900. 1900. |
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| 755. A Soldier Poet |
| | | By Rossiter Johnson |
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| WHERE swell the songs thou shouldst have sung | |
| By peaceful rivers yet to flow? | |
| Where bloom the smiles thy ready tongue | |
| Would call to lips that loved thee so? | |
| On what far shore of being tossed, | 5 |
| Dost thou resume the genial stave, | |
| And strike again the lyre we lost | |
| By Rappahannocks troubled wave? | |
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| If that new world hath hill and stream, | |
| And breezy bank, and quiet dell, | 10 |
| If forests murmur, waters gleam, | |
| And wayside flowers their story tell, | |
| Thy hand ere this has plucked the reed | |
| That wavered by the wooded shore; | |
| Its prisoned soul thy fingers freed, | 15 |
| To float melodious evermore. | |
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| So seems it to my musing mood, | |
| So runs it in my surer thought, | |
| That much of beauty, more of good, | |
| For thee the rounded years have wrought; | 20 |
| That life will live, however blown | |
| Like vapor on the summer air; | |
| That power perpetuates its own; | |
| That silence here is music there. | |
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