Poised on a far blue mountain peak, It saw the land, from sea to sea, Lifting in veilèd splendor up The banner of the free!
From tower and turret, spire and dome, From stately halls, and cabins rude, Where crag and cliff and forest meet In awful solitude,
It saw strange, sombre pennants float, Black shadows on the summer breeze That bore, from shore to shore, the wail Of solemn symphonies.
It saw long files of armèd men, Clad in a garb of faded blue, Pass up and down the sorrowing land As if in grand review.
It saw through crowded city streets, Funereal trains move to and fro, With tolling bells, and muffled drums, And trumpets wailing low.
Descending then the angel sought A stern, sad man of many cares— Ah, oft before have mortals talked With angels, unawares!
The angel spake, as man to man— “What does it mean, O friend?” it cried, “These sad-browed hosts, these weeds of woe, This mourning far and wide?”
The stranger answered in amaze— “Know you not what the whole world knows? To his long home, thus grandly borne, Earth’s greatest warrior goes.
The foremost soldier of his age, The victor on full many a field— Who saw the bravest of the brave To his stern prowess yield.”
The angel sighed. “That means,” it said, “Tumult and anguish, pain and death, And countless sons of men borne down By the fierce cannon’s breath!”