Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

The Home-coming

George Marian

THEY come back!—

Up the great street,

To the drum-beat and the heart-beat

And the thud of tramping feet;

To the lightning and the thunder

Of the nation in the street.

They come back

From that heart-breaking

Terrible leave-taking,

From the cold lips

Of the unquiet sea, and the lips

Of the dead children of the ships,

From the unending waiting

Wrapped in that death unending,

And the quick charging

Into what mess

Of bloodiness,

They come back!

O hearts that bled,

See—they are not dead!

They come back! They come back!

They come back!

Up the great street,

To the drum-beat and the heart-beat

And the sense of shadow feet,

To the tear-drops and the heart-stops

Of the pale ones in the street,

March the ghosts

Of all the hosts

That went but come not back.

From the heart-breaking

Terrible leave-taking,

From the hell

Where they fell,

From that ghastly night ride,

And the lonesome row of beds where they died,

They come back

Up the great street,

To the drum-beat and the heart-beat

And the music of the street,

To the laurel wreath of tears

And the crown of honor of cheers

From the nation in the street

For the smooth brow

And the still feet.

O hearts that bled,

And bleed and bleed,

For your dead

Who to our utter need

Gave what they had,

Forgive

If we who see our loved ones live

To-day rejoice

With straining arms and husky voice!

Forgive, forgive!

They come back.

Up the great street

To the madness of the gladness

Of the people in the street,

The wounded come

Home.

From the heart-breaking

Terrible leave-taking

They come back

To the memory and the aching.

O you of the torn flesh,

Now when you hear our cheering and our cry

Of welcome, do not glaze your eye

With that strange wondering why

You did not die!

The empty earth about you

Could not endure without you!

You are the faith that’s in us, and the seeing

Beyond ourselves into our utmost being.

They come back,

Up the thousand streets,

To the uproar and the furore

And the wild joy of the streets,

To the lightning and the thunder

And the rainbow in our hearts.

Then shout, throats, and brasses, blare!

And flags and bugles, tear the air!

For here go

Heroes of heroes, they who dare

For dreams give things—

Flowers and houses and love

For the vision of

The spirit that is in them.

Blow, flags, and bugles, blow!

Here where our heroes go

All of the most beautiful and great—

The poems and the music of all time,

The sense that there is something that’s sublime—

Are marching up the street!

Up the great street,

To the drum-beat and the heart-beat,

And the cadence of their feet;

Up the great street,

From what heart-breaking

Terrible leave-taking,

From what bloodless treachery

And what bloody butchery,

They come back veiled in their victory!