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Herman Melville - Rebel Color-Bearers At Shiloh
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_A plea against the vindictive cry raised by civilians
shortly after the surrender at Appomattox_

The color-bearers facing death
White in the whirling sulphurous wreath,
  Stand boldly out before the line;
Right and left their glances go,
Proud of each other, glorying in their show;
Their battle-flags about them blow,
  And fold them as in flame divine:
Such living robes are only seen
Round martyrs burning on the green--
And martyrs for the Wrong have been.

Perish their Cause! but mark the men--
Mark the planted statues, then
Draw trigger on them if you can.

The leader of a patriot-band
Even so could view rebels who so could stand;
  And this when peril pressed him sore,
Left aidless in the shivered front of war--
  Skulkers behind, defiant foes before,
And fighting with a broken brand.
The challenge in that courage rare--
Courage defenseless, proudly bare--
Never could tempt him; he could dare
Strike up the leveled rifle there.

Sunday at Shiloh, and the day
When Stonewall charged--McClellan`s
    crimson May,
And Chickamauga`s wave of death,
And of the Wilderness the cypress wreath--
    All these have passed away.
The life in the veins of Treason lags,
Her daring color-bearers drop their flags,
  And yield. _Now_ shall we fire?
    Can poor spite be?
  Shall nobleness in victory less aspire
  Than in reverse? Spare Spleen her ire,
    And think how Grant met Lee.
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