After the eyes that looked, the lips that spake <br />Here, from the shadows of impending death, <br />Those words of solemn breath, <br />What voice may fitly break <br />The silence, doubly hallowed, left by him? <br />We can but bow the head, with eyes grown dim, <br />And, as a Nation's litany, repeat <br />The phrase his martyrdom hath made complete, <br />Noble as then, but now more sadly sweet: <br />'Let us, the Living, rather dedicate <br />Ourselves to the unfinished work, which they <br />Thus far advanced so nobly on its way, <br />And saved the periled State! <br />Let us, upon this field where they, the brave, <br />Their last full measure of devotion gave, <br />Highly resolve they have not died in vain!-- <br />That, under God, the Nation's later birth <br />Of freedom, and the people's gain <br />Of their own Sovereignty, shall never wane <br />And perish from the circle of the earth!' <br />From such a perfect text, shall Song aspire <br />To light her faded fire, <br />And into wandering music turn <br />Its virtue, simple, sorrowful, and stern? <br />His voice all elegies anticipated; <br />For, whatsoe'er the strain, <br />We hear that one refrain: <br />'We consecrate ourselves to them, the Consecrated!'<br /><br />James Bayard Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gettysburg-ode/
