SHILOH A Requiem (April, 1862)

Skimming lightly, wheeling still,
   the swallows fly low
Over the field in clouded days,
  The forest-field of Shiloh----
Over the field where April rain
Solaced the parched ones stretched in pain
Through the pause of night
That followed the Sunday fight
   Around the church of Shiloh---
The church so lone, the log-built one,
That echoed so many a parting groan
      And natural prayer
   of dying foemen mingled there---
Foemen at morn, but friends at eve---
  Fame or country least their care;
(What like a bullet can undeceive!)
   But now they lie low,
While over them the swallows skim,
   And all is hushed at Shiloh.


Herman Melville
1862