{"id":"01KG8AK9101EB03GN5WKHE9ZXS","cid":"bafkreib52yb2lno3gsuv3unp2rkj6isds7o26rnvluulsvuslvayrbqr6i","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":3008,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:58.829Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1G8S4TRWXNCBRKCRKS8","start_line":2874,"text":"The Iris half in tracelessness\r\n  Hovers faintly fair.\r\nFitfully assailing it\r\n  A wind from heaven blows,\r\nShivering and paling it\r\n  To blankness of the snows;\r\nWhile, incessant in renewal,\r\n  The Arch rekindled grows,\r\nTill again the gem and jewel\r\n  Whirl in blinding overthrows--\r\nTill, prevailing and transcending,\r\n  Lo, the Glory perfect there,\r\nAnd the contest finds an ending,\r\n  For repose is in the air.\r\n\r\nBut the foamy Deep unsounded,\r\n  And the dim and dizzy ledge,\r\nAnd the booming roar rebounded,\r\n  And the gull that skims the edge!\r\n    The Giant of the Pool\r\n    Heaves his forehead white as wool--\r\nToward the Iris every climbing\r\n  From the Cataracts that call--\r\nIrremovable vast arras\r\n  Draping all the Wall.\r\n\r\n    The Generations pouring\r\n      From times of endless date,\r\n    In their going, in their flowing\r\n      Ever form the steadfast State;\r\n    And Humanity is growing\r\n      Toward the fullness of her fate.\r\n\r\n        Thou Lord of hosts victorious,\r\n          Fulfill the end designed;\r\n        By a wondrous way and glorious\r\n          A passage Thou dost find--\r\n          A passage Thou dost find:\r\n        Hosanna to the Lord of hosts,\r\n          The hosts of human kind.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Martyr.\r\nIndicative of the passion of the people on the 15th of\r\nApril, 1865.\r\n\r\n\r\nGood Friday was the day\r\n  Of the prodigy and crime,\r\nWhen they killed him in his pity,\r\n  When they killed him in his prime\r\nOf clemency and calm--\r\n    When with yearning he was filled\r\n    To redeem the evil-willed,\r\nAnd, though conqueror, be kind;\r\n  But they killed him in his kindness,\r\n  In their madness and their blindness,\r\nAnd they killed him from behind.\r\n\r\n        There is sobbing of the strong,\r\n          And a pall upon the land;\r\n        But the People in their weeping\r\n            Bare the iron hand:\r\n        Beware the People weeping\r\n          When they bare the iron hand.\r\n\r\nHe lieth in his blood--\r\n  The father in his face;\r\nThey have killed him, the Forgiver--\r\n  The Avenger takes his place, [15]\r\nThe Avenger wisely stern,\r\n    Who in righteousness shall do\r\n    What the heavens call him to,\r\nAnd the parricides remand;\r\n  For they killed him in his kindness,\r\n  In their madness and their blindness,\r\nAnd his blood is on their hand.\r\n\r\n        There is sobbing of the strong,\r\n          And a pall upon the land;\r\n        But the People in their weeping\r\n            Bare the iron hand:\r\n        Beware the People weeping\r\n          When they bare the iron hand.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n“The Coming Storm:”\r\nA Picture by S.R. Gifford, and owned by E.B.\r\nIncluded in the N.A. Exhibition, April, 1865.\r\n\r\n\r\nAll feeling hearts must feel for him\r\n  Who felt this picture. Presage dim--\r\nDim inklings from the shadowy sphere\r\n  Fixed him and fascinated here.\r\n\r\nA demon-cloud like the mountain one\r\n  Burst on a spirit as mild\r\nAs this urned lake, the home of shades.\r\n  But Shakspeare’s pensive child\r\n\r\nNever the lines had lightly scanned,\r\n  Steeped in fable, steeped in fate;\r\nThe Hamlet in his heart was ’ware,\r\n  Such hearts can antedate.\r\n\r\nNo utter surprise can come to him\r\n  Who reaches Shakspeare’s core;\r\nThat which we seek and shun is there--\r\n    Man’s final lore.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nRebel Color-bearers at Shiloh:[16]\r\nA plea against the vindictive cry raised by civilians shortly\r\nafter the surrender at Appomattox.\r\n\r\n\r\nThe color-bearers facing death\r\nWhite in the whirling sulphurous wreath,\r\n  Stand boldly out before the line\r\nRight and left their glances go,\r\nProud of each other, glorying in their show;\r\nTheir battle-flags about them blow,\r\n  And fold them as in flame divine:\r\nSuch living robes are only seen\r\nRound martyrs burning on the green--\r\nAnd martyrs for the Wrong have been.\r\n\r\nPerish their Cause! but mark the men--\r\nMark the planted statues, then\r\nDraw trigger on them if you can.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJPZHPVK3XF34J169DF31","peer_type":"segment","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1G8S4TRWXNCBRKCRKS8","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AK90PFY13WSK22YWMNFM5","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:59.008Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:01.796Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}