Published Works In Whitman's Hand Life & Letters Commentary Resources Pictures & Sound About the Archive

contents   |   previous   |   next

View Page 367

OLD WAR-DREAMS.

IN midnight sleep of many a face of anguish,

Of the look at first of the mortally wounded, (of that indescribable          look,)

Of the dead on their backs with arms extended wide,

I dream, I dream, I dream.

Of scenes of Nature, fields and mountains,

Of skies so beauteous after a storm, and at night the moon so          unearthly bright,

Shining sweetly, shining down, where we dig the trenches and          gather the heaps,

I dream, I dream, I dream.

Long have they pass'd, faces and trenches and fields,

Where through the carnage I moved with a callous composure,          or away from the fallen,

Onward I sped at the time—but now of their forms at night,

I dream, I dream, I dream.

contents   |   previous   |   next

Comments?

Published Works | In Whitman's Hand | Life & Letters | Commentary | Resources | Pictures & Sound

Support the Archive | About the Archive

Distributed under a Creative Commons License. Ed Folsom & Kenneth M. Price, editors.