 | Leaves of grass. |  |
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.
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.
| Leaves of grass. | |