PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE THE WILL AND THE WING To have the will to soar, but not the wings, Eyes fixed forever on a starry height, Whence stately shapes of grand imaginings Flash down the splendors of imperial light; And yet to lack the charm that makes them ours, The obedient vassals of that conquering Whose omnipresent and ethereal powers The slow-timed pulse, 'tis not for present strife, 10 The sordid zeal with which our age is rife, But gleanings of the lost, heroic life, romance. BEYOND. THE POTOMAC 1 1855? They slept on the fields which their valor had won! But arose with the first early blush of the sun, For they knew that a great deed remained to be done, When they passed o'er the River. They rose with the sun, and caught life from his light Those giants of courage, those Anaks in fight And they laughed out aloud in the joy of their might, Marching swift for the River. On! on! like the rushing of storms through the hills On! on! with a tramp that is firm as their wills 10 And the one heart of thousands grows buoyant and thrills, At the thought of the River. On! the sheen of their swords! the fierce gleam of their eyes It seemed as on earth a new sunlight would rise, And king-like, flash up to the sun in the skies, O'er the path to the River. But their banners, shot-scarred, and all darkened with gore, On a strong wind of morning stream wildly before, Like the wings of Death-angels swept fast to the shore, The green shore of the River. 20 1 Published in the Richmond Whig at the time of Stonewall Jackson's last raid into Maryland. |