On plaques found on hallowed ground from sea to sea across our great nation, including Arlington National Cemetery, one will find verses from Theodore O’Hara’s moving poem “Bivouac of the Dead.” Few however in our 21st century modern world knows of its origin or appreciate its history beyond the snippets they may have glanced at on plaques or gravestones in historic cemeteries they have visited.
Theodore O’Hara (1820-1867) was an officer in the United States Army during the Mexican American War. After the Battle of Buena Vista (1847), he wrote this famous poem as a memorial tribute to the dead of this battle. Although O’Hara later fought for the Confederacy in the Civil War, his poem became deeply connected with the mourning of Union dead.
During the Civil War, as Arlington National Cemetery was being established (1864), Quartermaster General Montgomery Meigs ordered lines from the poem inscribed on the cemetery’s main gate, although without attributing them to the southerner O’Hara. These lines soon graced the markers of many battlefields and cemeteries across the nation.
The endurance of “Bivouac of the Dead” through most of the 20th century is evidenced by its inclusion in anthologies and poetry collections; from 1920-63, it was found in 24 such texts including The Treasury of the Familiar, a book given to my grandfather, Frank Maximillian Bacque’ by his good friend Eloi Girard for Christmas in 1945. By 1973, however, the popularity of the poem had ebbed in keeping with the changing attitudes about military honor and politics.
As shown in the picture, a verse from “Bivouac” can be found on McClellen Gate 1879, the original entrance to Arlington National Cemetery. It is similarly found in Antietam National Cemetery and a least 14 other national cemeteries.
In the fall of 2001, the National Cemetery Administration commenced an initiative to install a new cast-aluminum tablet featuring the first stanza of “Bivouac of the Dead” in all the existing national cemeteries where they are missing, as well as cemeteries under development.
It is a fitting poem for us to ponder this Memorial Day weekend:
The muffled drum’s sad roll has beat
The soldier’s last tattoo!
No more on life’s parade shall meet
The brave and fallen few.
On Fame’s eternal camping ground
Their silent tents are spread,
And glory guards with solemn round
The bivouac of the dead.
No rumor of the foe’s advance
Now swells upon the wind,
Nor troubled thought of midnight haunts,
Of loved ones left behind;
No vision of tomorrow’s strife
The warrior’s dreams alarms,
No braying horn or screaming fife
At dawn to call to arms.
Their shivered swords are red with rust,
Their plumed heads are bowed,
Their haughty banner, trailed in dust,
Is now their martial shroud—
And plenteous funeral tears have washed
The red stains from each brow,
And the proud forms of battle gashed
Are free from anguish now.
The neighing troop, the flashing blade,
The bugle’s stirring blast,
The charge, –the dreadful cannonade,
The din and shout, are passed;
Nor war’s wild notes, nor glory’s peal
Shall thrill with fierce delight
Those breasts that nevermore shall feel
The rapture of the fight.
Like the fierce Northern hurricane
That sweeps the great plateau,
Flushed with the triumph yet to gain,
Come down the serried foe,
Who hear the thunder of the fray
Break o’er the field beneath,
Knew the watchword of the day
Was “Victory or death!”
Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead,
Dear is the blood you gave—
No impious footstep here shall tread
The herbage of your grave.
Nor shall your glory be forgot
While Fame her record keeps,
Or honor points the hallowed spot
Where valor proudly sleeps.
You marble minstrel’s voiceless stone
In deathless song shall tell,
When many a vanquished year hath flown,
The story how you fell.
Nor wreck nor change, nor winter’s blight,
Nor time’s remorseless doom,
Can dim one ray of holy light
That gilds your glorious tomb.
Have an AWE-full Memorial Day weekend!
William “Bill” Bacque