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A SIGHT IN CAMP IN THE DAY-BREAK GREY AND DIM.
  
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A SIGHT IN CAMP IN THE DAY-BREAK
GREY AND DIM.

1  A SIGHT in camp in the day-break grey 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 woolen      blanket,
Grey and heavy blanket, folding, covering all.
2  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-grey'd hair, and flesh all sunken about the      eyes?
Who are you, my dear comrade?
3  Then to the second I step — And who are you, my      child and darling?
Who are you, sweet boy, with cheeks yet blooming?
4  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 of      yours is the face of the Christ himself;
Dead and divine, and brother of all, and here again he      lies.