- description
- # The Frenzy in the Wake.
## Overview
This is a segment extracted from the text file [battle_pieces_and_aspects_of_the_war.txt](arke:01KG89J1G8S4TRWXNCBRKCRKS8), representing a section of poetry titled "The Frenzy in the Wake." It is part of the [Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War.](arke:01KG8AJ6FNQ0XKWBY52P8DRPC9) poetry collection. The segment includes three poems: "The Frenzy in the Wake," "The Fall of Richmond," and "The Surrender at Appomattox," all related to the American Civil War. The segment spans lines 2741-2840 of the source file.
## Context
This segment is part of a larger collection, [Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War.](arke:01KG8AJ6FNQ0XKWBY52P8DRPC9), which is contained within the [Melville Complete Works](arke:01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW) collection. It follows the segment titled [The March to the Sea.](arke:01KG8AJNCE7PVRVVQ30YDZ2BQ3) and precedes [A Canticle:](arke:01KG8AJNCGFDZA4RN9ADXG3JZE) within the poetry collection.
## Contents
The segment contains three poems reflecting on events during and immediately after the American Civil War:
1. **The Frenzy in the Wake:** A poem reflecting on Sherman's march through the Carolinas in February 1865, expressing resentment and a desire for revenge against the North.
2. **The Fall of Richmond:** A poem about the reaction in the North to the fall of Richmond in April 1865, celebrating the victory and praising General Grant.
3. **The Surrender at Appomattox:** A poem commemorating the surrender of General Lee to General Grant at Appomattox in April 1865, celebrating the end of the war and the triumph of freedom.
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- 2026-01-30T20:48:30.037Z
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- gemini-2.5-flash-lite
- description_title
- The Frenzy in the Wake.
- end_line
- 2840
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:47:35.910Z
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- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 2741
- text
- The Frenzy in the Wake.[14]
Sherman’s advance through the Carolinas.
(February, 1865.)
So strong to suffer, shall we be
Weak to contend, and break
The sinews of the Oppressor’s knee
That grinds upon the neck?
O, the garments rolled in blood
Scorch in cities wrapped in flame,
And the African--the imp!
He gibbers, imputing shame.
Shall Time, avenging every woe,
To us that joy allot
Which Israel thrilled when Sisera’s brow
Showed gaunt and showed the clot?
Curse on their foreheads, cheeks, and eyes--
The Northern faces--true
To the flag we hate, the flag whose stars
Like planets strike us through.
From frozen Maine they come,
Far Minnesota too;
They come to a sun whose rays disown--
May it wither them as the dew!
The ghosts of our slain appeal:
“Vain shall our victories be”
But back from its ebb the flood recoils--
Back in a whelming sea.
With burning woods our skies are brass,
The pillars of dust are seen;
The live-long day their cavalry pass--
No crossing the road between.
We were sore deceived--an awful host!
They move like a roaring wind.
Have we gamed and lost? but even despair
Shall never our hate rescind.
The Fall of Richmond.
The tidings received in the Northern Metropolis.
(April, 1865.)
What mean these peals from every tower,
And crowds like seas that sway?
The cannon reply; they speak the heart
Of the People impassioned, and say--
A city in flags for a city in flames,
Richmond goes Babylon’s way--
_Sing and pray._
O weary years and woeful wars,
And armies in the grave;
But hearts unquelled at last deter
The helmed dilated Lucifer--
Honor to Grant the brave,
Whose three stars now like Orion’s rise
When wreck is on the wave--
_Bless his glaive._
Well that the faith we firmly kept,
And never our aim forswore
For the Terrors that trooped from each recess
When fainting we fought in the Wilderness,
And Hell made loud hurrah;
But God is in Heaven, and Grant in the Town,
And Right through might is Law--
_God’s way adore._
The Surrender at Appomattox.
(April, 1865.)
As billows upon billows roll,
On victory victory breaks;
Ere yet seven days from Richmond’s fall
And crowning triumph wakes
The loud joy-gun, whose thunders run
By sea-shore, streams, and lakes.
The hope and great event agree
In the sword that Grant received from Lee.
The warring eagles fold the wing,
But not in Cæsar’s sway;
Not Rome o’ercome by Roman arms we sing,
As on Pharsalia’s day,
But Treason thrown, though a giant grown,
And Freedom’s larger play.
All human tribes glad token see
In the close of the wars of Grant and Lee.
- title
- The Frenzy in the Wake.