Best Famous Frameless Poems

The Souls of the Slain

 I 

 The thick lids of Night closed upon me 
 Alone at the Bill 
 Of the Isle by the Race {1} - 
 Many-caverned, bald, wrinkled of face - 
And with darkness and silence the spirit was on me 
 To brood and be still. 

II 

 No wind fanned the flats of the ocean, 
 Or promontory sides, 
 Or the ooze by the strand, 
 Or the bent-bearded slope of the land, 
Whose base took its rest amid everlong motion 
 Of criss-crossing tides. 

III 

 Soon from out of the Southward seemed nearing 
 A whirr, as of wings 
 Waved by mighty-vanned flies, 
 Or by night-moths of measureless size, 
And in softness and smoothness well-nigh beyond hearing 
 Of corporal things. 

IV 

 And they bore to the bluff, and alighted - 
 A dim-discerned train 
 Of sprites without mould, 
 Frameless souls none might touch or might hold - 
On the ledge by the turreted lantern, farsighted 
 By men of the main. 

V 

 And I heard them say "Home!" and I knew them 
 For souls of the felled 
 On the earth's nether bord 
 Under Capricorn, whither they'd warred, 
And I neared in my awe, and gave heedfulness to them 
 With breathings inheld. 

VI 

 Then, it seemed, there approached from the northward 
 A senior soul-flame 
 Of the like filmy hue: 
 And he met them and spake: "Is it you, 
O my men?" Said they, "Aye! We bear homeward and hearthward 
 To list to our fame!" 

VII 

 "I've flown there before you," he said then: 
 "Your households are well; 
 But--your kin linger less 
 On your glory arid war-mightiness 
Than on dearer things."--"Dearer?" cried these from the dead then, 
 "Of what do they tell?" 

VIII 

 "Some mothers muse sadly, and murmur 
 Your doings as boys - 
 Recall the quaint ways 
 Of your babyhood's innocent days. 
Some pray that, ere dying, your faith had grown firmer, 
 And higher your joys. 

IX 

 "A father broods: 'Would I had set him 
 To some humble trade, 
 And so slacked his high fire, 
 And his passionate martial desire; 
Had told him no stories to woo him and whet him 
 To this due crusade!" 

X 

 "And, General, how hold out our sweethearts, 
 Sworn loyal as doves?" 
 --"Many mourn; many think 
 It is not unattractive to prink 
Them in sables for heroes. Some fickle and fleet hearts 
 Have found them new loves." 

XI 

 "And our wives?" quoth another resignedly, 
 "Dwell they on our deeds?" 
 --"Deeds of home; that live yet 
 Fresh as new--deeds of fondness or fret; 
Ancient words that were kindly expressed or unkindly, 
 These, these have their heeds." 

XII 

 --"Alas! then it seems that our glory 
 Weighs less in their thought 
 Than our old homely acts, 
 And the long-ago commonplace facts 
Of our lives--held by us as scarce part of our story, 
 And rated as nought!" 

XIII 

 Then bitterly some: "Was it wise now 
 To raise the tomb-door 
 For such knowledge? Away!" 
 But the rest: "Fame we prized till to-day; 
Yet that hearts keep us green for old kindness we prize now 
 A thousand times more!" 

XIV 

 Thus speaking, the trooped apparitions 
 Began to disband 
 And resolve them in two: 
 Those whose record was lovely and true 
Bore to northward for home: those of bitter traditions 
 Again left the land, 

XV 

 And, towering to seaward in legions, 
 They paused at a spot 
 Overbending the Race - 
 That engulphing, ghast, sinister place - 
Whither headlong they plunged, to the fathomless regions 
 Of myriads forgot. 

XVI 

 And the spirits of those who were homing 
 Passed on, rushingly, 
 Like the Pentecost Wind; 
 And the whirr of their wayfaring thinned 
And surceased on the sky, and but left in the gloaming 
 Sea-mutterings and me.