A poem by
Walt Whitman, from his
Leaves of Grass. This is in the brief "Memories of
President Lincoln" section, along with its more famous brothers
O Captain! My Captain! and
When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd. It is subtitled:
(May 4, 1865), that being about 3 weeks after
Lincoln's assassination.
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Hush'd be the camps to-day,
And soldiers let us drape our war-worn weapons,
And each with musing soul retire to celebrate,
Our dear commander's death.
No more for him life's stormy conflicts,
Nor victory, nor defeat - no more time's dark events,
Charging like ceaseless clouds across the sky.
But sing poet in our name,
Sing of the love we bore him - because you - dweller in camps, know it truly.
As they invault the coffin there,
Sing - as they close the doors of earth upon him - one verse,
For the heavy hearts of soldiers.