Poems (Jackson)/Decoration Day

by Helen Hunt Jackson

For works with similar titles, see Decoration Day.

DECORATION DAY.

I.

HE Eastern wizards do a wondrous thing,Which travellers, having seen, scarce dare to tell:Dropping a seed in earth, by subtle spellOf hidden heat they force the germ to springTo instant life and growth; no faltering'Twixt leaf and flower and fruit; they rise and swellTo perfect shape and size, as if there fellUpon them all which seasons hold and bring.But Love far greater magic shows to-day:Lifting its feeble hands, which can but reachThe hand's-breadth up, it stretches all the wayFrom earth to heaven, and, triumphant, eachSweet wilting blossom sets, before it dies,Full in the sight of smiling angels' eyes.

II.

But, ah! the graves which no man names or knows;Uncounted graves, which never can be found; Graves of the precious "missing," where no soundOf tender weeping will be heard, where goesNo loving step of kindred. O, how flowsAnd yearns our thought to them! More holy groundOf graves than this, we say, is that whose boundIs secret till eternity discloseIts sign.Its sign.But Nature knows her wilderness;There are no" missing" in her numbered ways.In her great heart is no forgetfulness.Each grave she keeps she will adorn, caress.We cannot lay such wreaths as Summer lays,And all her days are Decoration Days!