A UTILITARIAN VIEW OF THE MONITOR'S FIGHT
by Herman Melville
(1819-1891)


Plain be the phrase, yet apt the verse,
  More ponderous than nimble;
For since grimed War here laid aside
His painted pomp, 'twould ill befit
    Overmuch to ply
  The rhyme's barbaric symbol.
  
Hail to victory without the gaud
  Of glory; zeal that needs no fans
Of banners; plain mechanic power
Plied cogently in War now placed --
    Where War belongs --
  Among the trades and artisans.
  
Yet this was battle, and intense --
  Beyond the strife of fleets heroic;
Deadlier, closer, calm 'mid storm;
No passion; all went on by crank.
    Pivot, and screw,
  And calculations of caloric.
  
Needless to dwell; the story's known.
  The ringing of those plates on plates
Still ringeth round the world --
The clangor of the blacksmiths' fray.
    The anvil-din
  Resounds this message from the Fates:

War shall yet be, and to the end;
  But war-paint shows the streaks of weather;
War yet shall be, but the warriors
Are now but operatives; War's made
    Less grand than Peace,
  And a singe runs through lace and feather.   

Battles