Herman Melville Poems

The grass shall never forget this grave.
When homeward footing it in the sun
After the weary ride by rail,
The stripling soldiers passed her door,
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Sailors there are of the gentlest breed,
Yet strong, like every goodly thing;
The discipline of arms refines,
And the wave gives tempering.
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In time and measure perfect moves
All Art whose aim is sure;
Evolving rhyme and stars divine
Have rules, and they endure.
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Persian, you rise
Aflame from climes of sacrifice
Where adulators sue,
And prostrate man, with brow abased,
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The Ancient of Days forever is young,
Forever the scheme of Nature thrives;
I know a wind in purpose strong--
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When, after storms that woodlands rue,
To valleys comes atoning dawn,
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"Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him"

Shall hearts that beat no base retreat
In youth's magnanimous years -
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Not magnitude, not lavishness,
But Form—the Site;
Not innovating wilfulness,
But reverence for the Archetype.
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Found a family, build a state,
The pledged event is still the same:
Matter in end will never abate
His ancient brutal claim.
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With banners furled and clarions mute,
An army passes in the night;
And beaming spears and helms salute
The dark with bright.
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