X THE FLIGHT OF THE EAGLE
TO WALT WHITMAN
"'I, thirty-six years old, in perfect health, begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.'"
CHANTS DEMOCRATIC.
"They say that thou art sick, art growing old,
Thou Poet of unconquerable health,
With youth far-stretching, through the golden wealth
Of autumn, to Death's frostful, friendly cold.
The never-blenching eyes, that did behold
Life's fair and foul, with measureless content,
And gaze ne'er sated, saddened as they bent
Over the dying soldier in the fold
Of thy large comrade love;--then broke the tear!
War-dream, field-vigil, the bequeathed kiss,
Have brought old age to thee; yet, Master, now,
Cease not thy song to us; lest we should miss
A death-chant of indomitable cheer,
Blown as a gale from God;--oh sing it thou!"
ARRAN LEIGH (England).
I
Whoever has witnessed the flight of any of the great birds, as the
eagle, the condor, the sea-gulls, the proud hawks, has perhaps felt
that the poetic suggestion of the feathered tribes is not all
confined to the sweet and tiny songsters,--the thrushes, canaries,
and mockingbirds of the groves and orchards, or of the gilded cage
in my lady's chamber. It is by some such analogy that I would
indicate the character of the poetry I am about to discuss,
compared with that of the more popular and melodious singer,--the
poetry of the strong wing and the daring flight.
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