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Full Online Book HomePoemsA Sight In Camp In The Daybreak Gray And Dim
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A Sight In Camp In The Daybreak Gray And Dim Post by :kentrg Category :Poems Author :Walt Whitman Date :May 2011 Read :3280

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A Sight In Camp In The Daybreak Gray And Dim

A sight in camp in the daybreak gray and dim,
As from my tent I emerge so early sleepless,
As slow I walk in the cool fresh air the path near by the hospital tent,
Three forms I see on stretchers lying, brought out there untended lying,
Over each the blanket spread, ample brownish woollen blanket,
Gray and heavy blanket, folding, covering all.

Curious I halt and silent stand,
Then with light fingers I from the face of the nearest the first just lift the blanket;
Who are you elderly man so gaunt and grim, with well-gray'd hair, and flesh all sunken about the eyes?
Who are you my dear comrade?

Then to the second I step--and who are you my child and darling?
Who are you sweet boy with cheeks yet blooming?

Then to the third--a face nor child nor old, very calm, as of beautiful yellow-white ivory;
Young man I think I know you--I think this face is the face of the Christ himself,
Dead and divine and brother of all, and here again he lies.

(The end)
Walt Whitman's poem: Sight In Camp In The Daybreak Gray And Dim

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Year That Trembled And Reel'd Beneath Me Year That Trembled And Reel'd Beneath Me

Year That Trembled And Reel'd Beneath Me
Year that trembled and reel'd beneath me! Your summer wind was warm enough, yet the air I breathed froze me, A thick gloom fell through the sunshine and darken'd me, Must I change my triumphant songs? said I to myself, Must I indeed learn to chant the cold dirges of the baffled, And sullen hymns of defeat?(The end)Walt Whitman's poem: Year That Trembled And Reel'd Beneath Me

A Twilight Song A Twilight Song

A Twilight Song
As I sit in twilight late alone by the flickering oak-flame,Musing on long-pass'd war-scenes--of the countless buried unknown soldiers,Of the vacant names, as unindented air's and sea's--the unreturn'd,The brief truce after battle, with grim burial-squads, and the deep-fill'd trenchesOf gather'd dead from all America, North, South, East, West, whence they came up,From wooded Maine, New-England's farms, from fertile Pennsylvania,Illinois, Ohio,From the measureless West, Virginia, the South, the Carolinas, Texas(Even here in my room-shadows and half-lights in the noiseless flickering flames,Again I see the stalwart ranks on-filing, rising--I hear the rhythmic tramp of the armies);You million unwrit names all, all--you