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lirik lagu bart wolffe - first o songs for a prelude

first o songs for a prelude
lightly strike on the stretch’d tympanum pride and joy in my city
how she led the rest to arms, how she gave the cue
how at once with lithe limbs unwaiting a moment she sprang
(o superb! o manhattan, my own, my peerless!
o strongest you in the hour of danger, in crisis! o truer than
steel!)
how you sprang—how you threw off the costumes of peace with
indifferent hand
how your soft opera~music changed, and the drum and fife were heard
in their stead
how you led to the war, (that shall sеrve for our prelude, songs of
soldiеrs,)
how manhattan drum~taps led

forty years had i in my city seen soldiers parading
forty years as a pageant, still unawares the lady of this teeming and
turbulent city
sleepless amid her ships, her houses, her incalculable wealth
with her million children around her, suddenly
at dead of night, at news from the south
incens’d struck with clinch’d hand the pavement

a shock electric, the night sustain’d it
till with ominous hum our hive at daybreak pour’d out its myriads
from the houses then and the workshops, and through all the doorways
leapt they tumultuous, and lo! manhattan arming
to the drum~taps prompt
the young men falling in and arming
the mechanics arming, (the trowel, the jack~plane, the blacksmith’s
hammer, tost aside with precipitation,)
the lawyer leaving his office and arming, the judge leaving the
court
the driver deserting his wagon in the street, jumping down, throwing
the reins abruptly down on the horses’ backs
the salesman leaving the store, the boss, book~keeper, porter, all
leaving;
squads gather everywhere by common consent and arm
the new recruits, even boys, the old men show them how to wear their
accoutrements, they buckle the straps carefully
outdoors arming, indoors arming, the flash of the musketbarrels
the white tents cl~ster in camps, the arm’d sentries around, the
sunrise cannon and again at sunset
arm’d regiments arrive every day, pass through the city, and embark
from the wharves
(how good they look as they tramp down to the river, sweaty, with
their guns on their shoulders!
how i love them! how i could hug them, with their brown faces and
their clothes and knapsacks cover’d with dust!)
the blood of the city up—arm’d! arm’d! the cry everywhere
the flags flung out from the steeples of churches and from all the
public buildings and stores
the tearful parting, the mother kisses her son, the son kisses his
mother
(loth is the mother to part, yet not a word does she speak to detain
him,)
the tumultuous escort, the ranks of policemen preceding, clearing the
way
the unpent enthusiasm, the wild cheers of the crowd for their
favorites
the artillery, the silent cannons bright as gold, drawn along, rumble
lightly over the stones
(silent cannons, soon to cease your silence
soon unlimber’d to begin the red business;)
all the mutter of preparation, all the determin’d arming
the hospital service, the lint, bandages and medicines
the women volunteering for nurses, the work begun for in earnest, no
mere parade now;
war! an arm’d race is advancing! the welcome for battle, no turning
away;
war! be it weeks, months, or years, an arm’d race is advancing to
welcome it
mannahatta a~march—and it’s o to sing it well!
it’s o for a manly life in the camp

and the st~rdy artillery
the guns bright as gold, the work for giants, to serve well the guns
unlimber them! (no more as the past forty years for salutes for
courtesies merely
put in something now besides powder and wadding.)

and you lady of ships, you mannahatta
old matron of this proud, friendly, turbulent city
often in peace and wealth you were pensive or covertly frown’d amid
all your children
but now you smile with joy exulting old mannahatta

- lirik lagu bart wolffe

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