Dear ones: Underwood says in his biography of Lowell: "In the by James Russell Lowell

The poem mentions three of Lowell's real relatives who lost their lives in the Civil War: General Charles Russell Lowell (Winchester), Lieutenant James Jackson Lowell (Seven Pines), and Captain William Lowell Putnam (Ball's Bluff). Colonel Robert Gould Shaw, who led the 54th Massachusetts and was killed at Fort Wagner, is included in this circle of grief.

Lowell published it in The Biglow Papers, featuring his fictional character Hosea Biglow, a straightforward New England farmer. The dialect — 'hain't', 'ez wal', 'jes'' — eliminates poetic formality, making the grief feel raw and personal instead of ceremonial.

Hosea feels a bit ashamed about sitting by the fire writing poetry when he thinks about what his nephews have actually done. It's Lowell pondering whether art holds any true value when set against action and sacrifice — a question that elegists have struggled with for centuries.

It's Hosea's dialect spelling of 'touchstone,' a stone that was traditionally used to check the purity of gold or silver based on the mark it left. Lowell suggests that war served as that test, and these men showed their true worth — 'rang true metal.' It's a subtle yet respectful way of paying tribute to them.

Lowell doesn't mention him directly in these stanzas, but the portrayal of a man who was 'deadly hurt' yet pressed on likely refers to one of the named nephews. This image — running forward despite being fatally wounded — aligns with reports of how several of them met their end.

Lowell likens the charging soldiers to a bolt of lightning, with the wounded soldier at its tip. Just as a lightning bolt is sharpest at its point, this man's bravery energized and directed the entire charge that shattered the Confederate line.

Yes, it serves its purpose even if it doesn't follow traditional forms. It honors the dead, considers their lives, and seeks to understand loss. What sets it apart as an elegy is its use of dialect and its open skepticism about whether poetry can truly capture the essence of those it's remembering.

That some sacrifices are so profound and total that words seem insufficient next to them—and that the most genuine response for a poet is to acknowledge this openly, then attempt to express it. The poem doesn't try to solve the tension between art and action; it embraces it.