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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,

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Three forms I see on stretchers lying, brought out          there, untended lying,

Over each the blanket spread, ample brownish woollen          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.

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