在波士顿看到罗伯特·古尔德·肖的雕像后，他于1863年7月18日在进攻瓦格纳堡时被杀，是第一个应征入伍的黑人团，马萨诸塞州第五十四团的团长。我伫立在庄严的圣高登铜像前，这铜像使无心过路的人肃然起敬，在这座城市的谈吐和交易中，我向罗伯特·肖致敬，在这个晴朗的三月早晨，我站在那里，听远方的春天涌上大地;我知道我所听到的并不是没有听到过这个童兵和他的黑人乐队的声音，因为他们的目光都紧盯着前方，因为他们的脚步有致命的节奏。他们用生命从死亡和耻辱中拯救出来的土地，颤抖着等待着，听到春天的伟大名字，被她的痛苦唤醒了这些坚定的鬼魂。穿过街道和购物中心，人潮汹涌;平原上的树木没有一点绿色;但在我静听的心，平静的大地却把她欢腾的冒险的保证，在我热切寻找的眼睛里，我清楚地看到，爱情终于在天空上有了力量。小池塘上结了冰;从树上滴落下来一声泄密的声音;空气中弥漫着南方的香气，仿佛就在昨天，它摇动着垂坠的苔藓的叶子，那里生长着弗吉尼亚和卡洛琳州以外的橡树，或者在佛罗里达和墨西哥湾以外熟睡的芳香小岛的水果和葡萄藤中，它也有自己的意志。 III Soon shall the Cape Ann children shout in glee, Spying the arbutus, spring's dear recluse; Hill lads at dawn shall hearken the wild goose Go honking northward over Tennessee; West from Oswego to Sault Sainte-Marie, And on to where the Pictured Rocks are hung, And yonder where, gigantic, wilful, young, Chicago sitteth at the northwest gates, With restless violent hands and casual tongue Moulding her mighty fates, The Lakes shall robe them in ethereal sheen; And like a larger sea, the vital green Of springing wheat shall vastly be outflung Over Dakota and the prairie states. By desert people immemorial On Arizonan mesas shall be done Dim rites unto the thunder and the sun; Nor shall the primal gods lack sacrifice More splendid, when the white Sierras call Unto the Rockies straightway to arise And dance before the unveiled ark of the year, Sounding their windy cedars as for shawms, Unrolling rivers clear For flutter of broad phylacteries; While Shasta signals to Alaskan seas That watch old sluggish glaciers downward creep To fling their icebergs thundering from the steep, And Mariposa through the purple calms Gazes at far Hawaii crowned with palms Where East and West are met, -- A rich seal on the ocean's bosom set To say that East and West are twain, With different loss and gain: The Lord hath sundered them; let them be sundered yet. IV Alas! what sounds are these that come Sullenly over the Pacific seas, -- Sounds of ignoble battle, striking dumb The season's half-awakened ecstasies? Must I be humble, then, Now when my heart hath need of pride? Wild love falls on me from these sculptured men; By loving much the land for which they died I would be justified. My spirit was away on pinions wide To soothe in praise of her its passionate mood And ease it of its ache of gratitude. Too sorely heavy is the debt they lay On me and the companions of my day. I would remember now My country's goodliness, make sweet her name. Alas! what shade art thou Of sorrow or of blame Liftest the lyric leafage from her brow, And pointest a slow finger at her shame? V Lies! lies! It cannot be! The wars we wage Are noble, and our battles still are won By justice for us, ere we lift the gage. We have not sold our loftiest heritage. The proud republic hath not stooped to cheat And scramble in the market-place of war; Her forehead weareth yet its solemn star. Here is her witness: this, her perfect son, This delicate and proud New England soul Who leads despisèd men, with just-unshackled feet, Up the large ways where death and glory meet, To show all peoples that our shame is done, That once more we are clean and spirit-whole. VI Crouched in the sea fog on the moaning sand All night he lay, speaking some simple word From hour to hour to the slow minds that heard, Holding each poor life gently in his hand And breathing on the base rejected clay Till each dark face shone mystical and grand Against the breaking day; And lo, the shard the potter cast away Was grown a fiery chalice crystal-fine Fulfilled of the divine Great wine of battle wrath by God's ring-finger stirred. Then upward, where the shadowy bastion loomed Huge on the mountain in the wet sea li