{"id":"01KG8AK228792QCCCEKAD64MG4","cid":"bafkreigyocg6x3rlage3qod4iauanba7od3zf2bbopi5qass5nohfppzoa","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":2467,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:50.352Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J19Y3FNVN5KWASY78BP4","start_line":2312,"text":"POEMS FROM BATTLE PIECES\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE PORTENT\r\n\r\n\r\n1859\r\n\r\n\r\nHanging from the beam,\r\n    Slowly swaying (such the law),\r\nGaunt the shadow on your green,\r\n    Shenandoah!\r\nThe cut is on the crown\r\n(Lo, John Brown),\r\nAnd the stabs shall heal no more.\r\n\r\nHidden in the cap\r\n    Is the anguish none can draw;\r\nSo your future veils its face,\r\n    Shenandoah!\r\nBut the streaming beard is shown\r\n(Weird John Brown),\r\nThe meteor of the war.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nFROM THE CONFLICT OF CONVICTIONS\r\n\r\n\r\n1860-1\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Ancient of Days forever is young,\r\n    Forever the scheme of Nature thrives;\r\nI know a wind in purpose strong—\r\n    It spins _against_ the way it drives.\r\nWhat if the gulfs their slimed foundations bare?\r\nSo deep must the stones be hurled\r\nWhereon the throes of ages rear\r\nThe final empire and the happier world.\r\n\r\n    Power unanointed may come—\r\nDominion (unsought by the free)\r\n    And the Iron Dome,\r\nStronger for stress and strain,\r\nFling her huge shadow athwart the main;\r\nBut the Founders’ dream shall flee.\r\nAge after age has been,\r\n(From man’s changeless heart their way they win);\r\nAnd death be busy with all who strive—\r\nDeath, with silent negative.\r\n\r\n    _Yea and Nay—_\r\n    _Each hath his say;_\r\n    _But God He keeps the middle way._\r\n    _None was by_\r\n    _When He spread the sky;_\r\n    _Wisdom is vain, and prophecy._\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE MARCH INTO VIRGINIA\r\n\r\n\r\n_Ending in the First Manassas_\r\nJuly, 1861\r\n\r\n\r\nDid all the lets and bars appear\r\n    To every just or larger end,\r\nWhence should come the trust and cheer?\r\n    Youth must its ignorant impulse lend—\r\nAge finds place in the rear.\r\n    All wars are boyish, and are fought by boys,\r\nThe champions and enthusiasts of the state:\r\n    Turbid ardors and vain joys\r\n        Not barrenly abate—\r\n    Stimulants to the power mature,\r\n        Preparatives of fate.\r\n\r\nWho here forecasteth the event?\r\nWhat heart but spurns at precedent\r\nAnd warnings of the wise,\r\nContemned foreclosures of surprise?\r\nThe banners play, the bugles call,\r\nThe air is blue and prodigal.\r\n    No berrying party, pleasure-wooed,\r\nNo picnic party in the May,\r\nEver went less loth than they\r\n    Into that leafy neighborhood.\r\nIn Bacchic glee they file toward Fate,\r\nMoloch’s uninitiate;\r\nExpectancy, and glad surmise\r\nOf battle’s unknown mysteries.\r\nAll they feel is this: ’t is glory,\r\nA rapture sharp, though transitory,\r\nYet lasting in belaureled story.\r\nSo they gayly go to fight,\r\nChatting left and laughing right.\r\n\r\nBut some who this blithe mood present,\r\n    As on in lightsome files they fare,\r\nShall die experienced ere three days are spent—\r\n    Perish, enlightened by the vollied glare;\r\nOr shame survive, and, like to adamant,\r\n    The throe of Second Manassas share.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nBALL’S BLUFF\r\n\r\n\r\n_A Reverie_\r\nOctober, 1861\r\n\r\n\r\nOne noonday, at my window in the town,\r\n    I saw a sight—saddest that eyes can see—\r\n    Young soldiers marching lustily\r\n        Unto the wars,\r\nWith fifes, and flags in mottoed pageantry;\r\n    While all the porches, walks, and doors\r\nWere rich with ladies cheering royally.\r\n\r\nThey moved like Juny morning on the wave,\r\n    Their hearts were fresh as clover in its prime\r\n    (It was the breezy summer time),\r\n        Life throbbed so strong,\r\nHow should they dream that Death in a rosy clime\r\n    Would come to thin their shining throng?\r\nYouth feels immortal, like the gods sublime.\r\n\r\nWeeks passed; and at my window, leaving bed,\r\n    By night I mused, of easeful sleep bereft,\r\n    On those ‘brave boys (Ah War! thy theft);\r\n        Some marching feet\r\nFound pause at last by cliffs Potomac cleft;\r\n    Wakeful I mused, while in the street\r\nFar footfalls died away till none were left.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE STONE FLEET\r\n\r\n\r\n_An Old Sailor’s Lament_\r\nDecember, 1861\r\n\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJJ0DPPYXBBTAHQ387QKQ","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J19Y3FNVN5KWASY78BP4","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AK22DZNA9514SW9Y5HK22","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:51.880Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:47:53.865Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}