_A plea against the vindictive cry raised by civilians <br />shortly after the surrender at Appomattox_ <br /> <br />The color-bearers facing death <br />White in the whirling sulphurous wreath, <br />Stand boldly out before the line; <br />Right and left their glances go, <br />Proud of each other, glorying in their show; <br />Their battle-flags about them blow, <br />And fold them as in flame divine: <br />Such living robes are only seen <br />Round martyrs burning on the green-- <br />And martyrs for the Wrong have been. <br /> <br />Perish their Cause! but mark the men-- <br />Mark the planted statues, then <br />Draw trigger on them if you can. <br /> <br />The leader of a patriot-band <br />Even so could view rebels who so could stand; <br />And this when peril pressed him sore, <br />Left aidless in the shivered front of war-- <br />Skulkers behind, defiant foes before, <br />And fighting with a broken brand. <br />The challenge in that courage rare-- <br />Courage defenseless, proudly bare-- <br />Never could tempt him; he could dare <br />Strike up the leveled rifle there. <br /> <br />Sunday at Shiloh, and the day <br />When Stonewall charged--McClellan's <br />crimson May, <br />And Chickamauga's wave of death, <br />And of the Wilderness the cypress wreath-- <br />All these have passed away. <br />The life in the veins of Treason lags, <br />Her daring color-bearers drop their flags, <br />And yield. _Now_ shall we fire? <br />Can poor spite be? <br />Shall nobleness in victory less aspire <br />Than in reverse? Spare Spleen her ire, <br />And think how Grant met Lee.<br /><br />Herman Melville<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rebel-color-bearers-at-shiloh/
