SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY
Do not be alarmed if you find this a little hard to understand. It is expressed in rather figurative language, and one has to study it to get its meaning. The poem is about those people who look forward constantly to something better, and feel that they must always be pressing forward at any cost. Who is represented as speaking? What sort of life are the travelers leaving behind them? Why do they feel a keen distress? What is the “whole” that they are striving to see? What is their “sacred hunger”? Why is it “dearer” than the feasting of those who stay at home? Notice how the third stanza reminds one of Gloucester Moors. Look up the word sidereal: Can you tell what it means here? “Lives and lives behind us” means a long time ago; you will perhaps have to ask your teacher for its deeper meaning. Do the travelers know where they are going? Why do they set forth? Note the description of the dawn in the fifth stanza. What is the boon of “endless quest”? Why is it spoken of as a gift (boon)? Compare the last line of this poem with the last line of The Wild Ride, on page 161. Perhaps you will be interested to compare the Road-Hymn with Whitman’s The Song of the Open Road.
Do the meter and verse-form seem appropriate here? Is anything gained by the difference in the length of the lines?
ON A SOLDIER FALLEN IN THE PHILIPPINES
WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY
Streets of the
roaring town,
Hush for him,
hush, be still!
He comes, who
was stricken down
Doing the word
of our will.
Hush! Let
him have his state,
Give him his soldier’s
crown.
The grists of
trade can wait
Their grinding
at the mill,
But he cannot wait for his
honor, now the trumpet has been blown;
Wreathe pride now for his
granite brow, lay love on his breast
of stone.
Toll! Let
the great bells toll
Till the clashing
air is dim.
Did we wrong this
parted soul?
We will make it
up to him.
Toll! Let
him never guess
What work we set
him to.
Laurel, laurel,
yes;
He did what we
bade him do.
Praise, and never a whispered
hint but the fight he fought was good;
Never a word that the blood
on his sword was his country’s
own heart’s-blood.
A flag for the soldier’s
bier
Who dies that
his land may live;
O, banners, banners
here,
That he doubt
not nor misgive!
That he heed not
from the tomb
The evil days
draw near
When the nation,
robed in gloom,
With its faithless
past shall strive.
Let him never dream that his
bullet’s scream went wide of its
island mark,
Home to the heart of his darling
land where she stumbled
and sinned in
the dark.