The Last Sunbeam Lightly Falls From The Finish'D Sabbath, On The Pavement Here--And There Beyond, It Is Looking, Down A New-Made Double Grave. Lo! The Moon Ascending! Up From The East, The Silvery Round Moon; Beautiful Over The House Tops, Ghastly Phantom Moon; Immense And Silent Moon. I See A Sad Procession, And I Hear The Sound Of Coming Full-Key'D Bugles; All The Channels Of The City Streets They're Flooding, As With Voices And With Tears. I Hear The Great Drums Pounding, And The Small Drums Steady Whirring; And Every Blow Of The Great Convulsive Drums, Strikes Me Through And Through. For The Son Is Brought With The Father; In The Foremost Ranks Of The Fierce Assault They Fell; Two Veterans, Son And Father, Dropt Together, And The Double Grave Awaits Them. Now Nearer Blow The Bugles, And The Drums Strike More Convulsive; And The Day-Light O'Er The Pavement Quite Has Faded, And The Strong Dead-March Enwraps Me. In The Eastern Sky Up-Buoying, The Sorrowful Vast Phantom Moves Illumin'D; ('Tis Some Mother'S Large, Transparent Face, In Heaven Brighter Growing.) O Strong Dead-March, You Please Me! O Moon Immense, With Your Silvery Face You Soothe Me! O My Soldiers Twain! O My Veterans, Passing To Burial! What I Have I Also Give You. The Moon Gives You Light, And The Bugles And The Drums Give You Music; And My Heart, O My Soldiers, My Veterans, My Heart Gives You Love.