Poetic People
     Home     Poets     Contact Us     Chat
Member Login
:
:
 
  Register  Forgot Password
Search
Poem Genres
Anger Poems
Animals Poems
Contemplations Poems
Death Poems
Depression Poems
Dreams Poems
Fear Poems
Fractured Love Poems
Friendship Poems
General
Hate Poems
Holidays Poems
Humor Poems
Introspection Poems
Life Poems
Love Poems
Nature Poems
Political Poems
Religion Poems
Sex Poems
Time Poems
War Poems
Work Poems

 

A Sight in Camp. in  General   

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 woollen blanket,
Grey 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-grey’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 of yours is the face of the Christ
himself;
Dead and divine, and brother of all, and here again he lies.

By Walt Whitman

Tell Your Friends About It | Print This Poem

Comments

You should be logged in to be able to leave comments

Other poems by Walt Whitman:

Users Online