THE last sunbeam
 Lightly falls from the finish'd Sabbath,
 On the pavement here--and there beyond, it is looking,
 Down a new-made double grave.


 Lo! the moon ascending!
 Up from the east, the silvery round moon;
 Beautiful over the house tops, ghastly phantom moon;
 Immense and silent moon.


 I see a sad procession,
 And I hear the sound of coming full-key'd bugles; 10
 All the channels of the city streets they're flooding,
 As with voices and with tears.


 I hear the great drums pounding,
 And the small drums steady whirring;
 And every blow of the great convulsive drums,
 Strikes me through and through.


 For the son is brought with the father;
 In the foremost ranks of the fierce assault they fell;
 Two veterans, son and father, dropt together,
 And the double grave awaits them. 20


 Now nearer blow the bugles,
 And the drums strike more convulsive;
 And the day-light o'er the pavement quite has faded,
 And the strong dead-march enwraps me.


 In the eastern sky up-buoying,
 The sorrowful vast phantom moves illumin'd;
 ('Tis some mother's large, transparent face,
 In heaven brighter growing.)


 O strong dead-march, you please me!
 O moon immense, with your silvery face you soothe me! 30
 O my soldiers twain! O my veterans, passing to burial!
 What I have I also give you.


 The moon gives you light,
 And the bugles and the drums give you music;
 And my heart, O my soldiers, my veterans,
 My heart gives you love.