VIII. MEMORIES OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN BY WALT WHITMAN.

251

BEAT! BEAT! DRUMS!

BEAT! beat! drums! — blow! bugles! blow!
     Throught the windows — through doors — burst
                   like a ruthless force,
Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation,
Into the school where the scholar is studying;
Leave not the bridegroom quiet — no happiness must
            he have now with his bride,
Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field
            or gathering his grain,
So fierce you whirr and pound you drums — so shrill
           you bugles blow.


Beat! beat! drums! — blow! bugles! blow!
Over the traffic of cities — over the rumble of wheels in
           the streets;
Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses?
           no sleepers must sleep in those beds,
No bargainers’ bargains by day — no brokers or specu-
            lators — would they continue?
Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt
            to sing?
Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case
            before the judge?
Then rattle quicker, heavier drums — you bugles wilder
            blow.

252
Beat! beat! drums! — blow! bugles! blow!
Make no parley — stop for no expostulation,
Mind not the timid — mind not the weeper or prayer,
Mind not the old man beseeching the young man,
Let not the child’s voice be heard, nor the mother’s
            entreaties,
Make even the treaties to shake the dead where they lie
            awaiting the hearses,
So strong you thump O terrible drums — so loud you
            bugles blow.