Many people don't realize that Herman Melville wrote poetry.  This piece was originally written for a performance at the French Library here in Boston by a group of Berklee composition students called The New Boston Composer's Collective.  I am still happy with much of it.  The two poems are both Civil War era pieces.  Like many Americans, I feel deep emotions on the topic of the War.  I started with just the first of the two, but realized that structurally I didn't like ending on that shattered emotion.  So I found a second poem by Melville that allowed for reconciliation and rather than have two songs, I joined them.  

The only recording of the premier is a pretty scratchy analog source so I didn't include it here.  If you would rather hear that version please contact me.  I would suggest the Sibelius version, since you can at least follow along with the words in your imagination.  

Here is the text of the two poems:

The March Into Virginia (July 1861)

Did all the lets and bars appear
  To every just or larger end,
Whence should come the trust and cheer?
  Youth must it's ignorant impulse lend---
Age find place in the rear.
  All wars are boyish, and fought by boys,
The champions and enthusiasts of the state:
  Turbid ardors and vain joys
    Not barrenly abate---
  Stimpuants to the power mature,
    Preparatives of fate.

Who here forecasteth the event?
What heart but spurns at precedent
And warnings of the wise,
Contemned foreclosures of surprise?
The banners play, the bugles call,
The air is blue and prodigal.
  No berrying party, pleasure-wooed,
No picnic party in May,
Ever went less loath than they,
  Into that leafy neighborhood.
In Bacchic glee they file toward fate,
Moloch's uninitiate;
Expectancy, and glad surmise
Of battle's unknown mysteries.
All they feel is this: 'tis glory,
A rapture sharp, though transitory,
Yet lasting in belaurelled story.
So they gaily go to fight,
Chatting left and laughing right.

But some who this, blithe mood present
  As on in lightsome files they fare,
Shall die experienced ere three days are spent---
  Perish, enlightened by the volleyed glare.
Or shame survive, and like to adamant,
  The throes of Second Manassas share.

Shiloh, a Requiem (April 1862)

Skimming lightly, wheeling still,
  The swallows fly low
Over the field in clouded days,
  The forest-field of Shiloh---
Over the field where April rain
Solaced the parched one stretched in pain
Through the pause of night
That followed the Sunday fight
  Around the church of Shiloh---
The church so lone, the log-built one,
That echoed to many a parting groan
  And natural prayer
  Of dying foemen mingled there---
Foemen at noon, but friends at eve---
  Fame or country least their care:
(What like a bullet can undeceive?)
  But now they lie low,
While over them the swallows skim
  And all is hushed at Shiloh.

• Melville Song -- Streaming Audio
• Melville Song -- Sibelius Score 
• Melville Song -- General MIDI file