Hush'd Be the Camps To-Day
Encyclopedia
"Hush'd Be the Camps To-Day" is a poem by Walt Whitman
dedicated to Abraham Lincoln
.
The poem was written on April 19, 1865, shortly after Lincoln's assassination
. Whitman went on to write additional poetry about Lincoln: "O Captain! My Captain!
", "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd
", and "This Dust Was Once the Man."
Walt Whitman
Walter "Walt" Whitman was an American poet, essayist and journalist. A humanist, he was a part of the transition between transcendentalism and realism, incorporating both views in his works. Whitman is among the most influential poets in the American canon, often called the father of free verse...
dedicated to Abraham Lincoln
Abraham Lincoln
Abraham Lincoln was the 16th President of the United States, serving from March 1861 until his assassination in April 1865. He successfully led his country through a great constitutional, military and moral crisis – the American Civil War – preserving the Union, while ending slavery, and...
.
The poem was written on April 19, 1865, shortly after Lincoln's assassination
Abraham Lincoln assassination
The assassination of United States President Abraham Lincoln took place on Good Friday, April 14, 1865, as the American Civil War was drawing to a close. The assassination occurred five days after the commanding General of the Army of Northern Virginia, Robert E. Lee, and his battered Army of...
. Whitman went on to write additional poetry about Lincoln: "O Captain! My Captain!
O Captain! My Captain!
"O Captain! My Captain!" is an extended metaphor poem written in 1865 by Walt Whitman, concerning the death of American president Abraham Lincoln.-Analysis:...
", "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd
When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd
When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd is an elegy written by Walt Whitman shortly after the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln in 1865...
", and "This Dust Was Once the Man."
Full text
HUSH'D be the camps to-day;
And, soldiers, let us drape our war-worn weapons;
And each with musing soul retire, to celebrate,
Our dear commander's death.
No more for him life's stormy conflicts;
Nor victory, nor defeat--no more time's dark events,
Charging like ceaseless clouds across the sky.
But sing, poet, in our name;
Sing of the love we bore him--because you, dweller in camps, know it
truly.
As they invault the coffin there;
Sing--as they close the doors of earth upon him--one verse,
For the heavy hearts of soldiers.