{"id":"01KG8AK90KG1MBWRVJGEX25ENF","cid":"bafkreihjzvhdvts22g5uh5ugizniahu4vk7lrd5oazsr6xwk3bjr27o6em","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":2148,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:58.829Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1G8S4TRWXNCBRKCRKS8","start_line":2035,"text":"II\r\n\r\nThe May-weed springs; and comes a Man\r\n  And mounts our Signal Hill;\r\nA quiet Man, and plain in garb--\r\n  Briefly he looks his fill,\r\nThen drops his gray eye on the ground,\r\n  Like a loaded mortar he is still:\r\nMeekness and grimness meet in him--\r\n  The silent General.\r\n\r\n        _Were men but strong and wise,\r\n          Honest as Grant, and calm,\r\n        War would be left to the red and black ants,\r\n          And the happy world disarm._\r\n\r\nThat eve a stir was in the camps,\r\n  Forerunning quiet soon to come\r\nAmong the streets of beechen huts\r\n  No more to know the drum.\r\nThe weed shall choke the lowly door,\r\n  And foxes peer within the gloom,\r\nTill scared perchange by Mosby’s prowling men,\r\n  Who ride in the rear of doom.\r\n\r\n        _Far West, and farther South,\r\n          Wherever the sword has been,\r\n        Deserted camps are met,\r\n          And desert graves are seen._\r\n\r\nThe livelong night they ford the flood;\r\n  With guns held high they silent press,\r\nTill shimmers the grass in their bayonets’ sheen--\r\n  On Morning’s banks their ranks they dress;\r\nThen by the forests lightly wind,\r\n  Whose waving boughs the pennons seem to bless,\r\nBorne by the cavalry scouting on--\r\n  Sounding the Wilderness.\r\n\r\n        _Like shoals of fish in spring\r\n          That visit Crusoe’s isle,\r\n        The host in the lonesome place--\r\n          The hundred thousand file._\r\n\r\nThe foe that held his guarded hills\r\n  Must speed to woods afar;\r\nFor the scheme that was nursed by the Culpepper hearth\r\n  With the slowly-smoked cigar--\r\nThe scheme that smouldered through winter long\r\n  Now bursts into act--into war--\r\nThe resolute scheme of a heart as calm\r\n  As the Cyclone’s core.\r\n\r\n        _The fight for the city is fought\r\n          In Nature’s old domain;\r\n        Man goes out to the wilds,\r\n          And Orpheus’ charm is vain._\r\n\r\nIn glades they meet skull after skull\r\n  Where pine-cones lay--the rusted gun,\r\nGreen shoes full of bones, the mouldering coat\r\n  And cuddled-up skeleton;\r\nAnd scores of such. Some start as in dreams,\r\n  And comrades lost bemoan:\r\nBy the edge of those wilds Stonewall had charged--\r\n  But the Year and the Man were gone.\r\n\r\n        _At the height of their madness\r\n          The night winds pause,\r\n        Recollecting themselves;\r\n          But no lull in these wars._\r\n\r\nA gleam!--a volley! And who shall go\r\n  Storming the swarmers in jungles dread?\r\nNo cannon-ball answers, no proxies are sent--\r\n  They rush in the shrapnel’s stead.\r\nPlume and sash are vanities now--\r\n  Let them deck the pall of the dead;\r\nThey go where the shade is, perhaps into Hades,\r\n  Where the brave of all times have led.\r\n\r\n        _There’s a dust of hurrying feet,\r\n          Bitten lips and bated breath,\r\n        And drums that challenge to the grave,\r\n          And faces fixed, forefeeling death._\r\n\r\nWhat husky huzzahs in the hazy groves--\r\n  What flying encounters fell;\r\nPursuer and pursued like ghosts disappear\r\n  In gloomed shade--their end who shall tell?\r\nThe crippled, a ragged-barked stick for a crutch,\r\n  Limp to some elfin dell--\r\nHobble from the sight of dead faces--white\r\n  As pebbles in a well.\r\n\r\n        _Few burial rites shall be;\r\n          No priest with book and band\r\n        Shall come to the secret place\r\n          Of the corpse in the foeman’s land._\r\n\r\nWatch and fast, march and fight--clutch your gun?\r\n  Day-fights and night-fights; sore is the strees;\r\nLook, through the pines what line comes on?\r\n  Longstreet slants through the hauntedness?\r\n’Tis charge for charge, and shout for yell:\r\n  Such battles on battles oppress--\r\nBut Heaven lent strength, the Right strove well,\r\n  And emerged from the Wilderness.\r\n\r\n        _Emerged, for the way was won;\r\n          But the Pillar of Smoke that led\r\n        Was brand-like with ghosts that went up\r\n              Ashy and red._\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AK5SR2DYB1B5RTZAYXSGV","peer_type":"section","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1G8S4TRWXNCBRKCRKS8","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AK90PEQ53Q4MHB90BH16A","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:58.995Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:02.305Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}