Poems (Jordan)/Victors
VICTORS
Not the blare of trumpets, or blazoned banners high,
And not the cheer, of throngs who watch the victors by,
Nor the heart-welcomings from home friends they receive
Express the all of praise the nation has to give;
And not the cheer, of throngs who watch the victors by,
Nor the heart-welcomings from home friends they receive
Express the all of praise the nation has to give;
For those men who have stood amid the wildest wars;
Come from thence exhausted, their triumphs badged with scars,—
And for those heroes who freed Victr'y as they fell,
Must proud hearts ever ring Gratitude's muffled bell!
Come from thence exhausted, their triumphs badged with scars,—
And for those heroes who freed Victr'y as they fell,
Must proud hearts ever ring Gratitude's muffled bell!
Not to bursting cannon the hero yields his life,
But unto stalwart Right, who wields the noiseless knife!
And he who doffs the robe of praise—well earned—to cast
Its warmth on weaker soul, exposed to Censure's blast;
But unto stalwart Right, who wields the noiseless knife!
And he who doffs the robe of praise—well earned—to cast
Its warmth on weaker soul, exposed to Censure's blast;
Whose fevered lips refuse some awful thirst to slake,
And drinks salt tears instead, for some dear comrade's sake,—
Ah, these are deeds which Heav'n's historian records,
The fruit of battles fought without the clash of swords!
And drinks salt tears instead, for some dear comrade's sake,—
Ah, these are deeds which Heav'n's historian records,
The fruit of battles fought without the clash of swords!
The history of war can ne'er be fully told;
Its losses number more than names on lists enroll'd;
And not by men alone, all victories are wrought—
In their homes' shaded fields are bloodless triumphs bought!
Its losses number more than names on lists enroll'd;
And not by men alone, all victories are wrought—
In their homes' shaded fields are bloodless triumphs bought!
In an humble cottage, apart from human gaze,
A mother in her sorrow, for the wand'rer prays;
Here too, the life-drops fall, without a sound to mar
The truth that livest hopes are martyred in the dark!
A mother in her sorrow, for the wand'rer prays;
Here too, the life-drops fall, without a sound to mar
The truth that livest hopes are martyred in the dark!
Ah, Life's curtained altars, which hide as sacrifice
The best of human kind, from pride-perverted eyes!
And those who sheathe in smiles the deadly cruel steel
Of man's misunderstandings which, dailily, they feel!
The best of human kind, from pride-perverted eyes!
And those who sheathe in smiles the deadly cruel steel
Of man's misunderstandings which, dailily, they feel!
Oh royalty, which walks the paths of Earth, disguised;
Giving to thankless men, those things most Heaven-prized;—
Who bridge the gap between the cradle, and the tom
With the rude cross, whereon to meet your final doom;—
Giving to thankless men, those things most Heaven-prized;—
Who bridge the gap between the cradle, and the tom
With the rude cross, whereon to meet your final doom;—
Who all the foes of good, go fearlessly to meet,
And fight Temptation's powers, and never know defeat;
Whose best Self Love-bribed Justice damns with silent tongue,—
Methinks that ye have learned to sing the victor's song!
And fight Temptation's powers, and never know defeat;
Whose best Self Love-bribed Justice damns with silent tongue,—
Methinks that ye have learned to sing the victor's song!