1
An old man bending I come among new faces,
Years looking backward resuming in answer to children,
Come tell us old man, as from young men and maidens that
love me
(Arous'd and angry, I'd thought to beat the
alarum, and urge relentless
war,
But soon my fingers
fail'd me, my face droop'd and I resign'd myself,
To sit
by the wounded and soothe them, or silently watch the dead);
Years hence of these scenes, of these furious passions,
these chances,
Of unsurpass'd heroes (was one side so
brave? the other was equally
brave);
Now be witness
again, paint the mightiest armies of earth,
Of those
armies so rapid so wondrous what saw you to tell us?
What
stays with you latest and deepest? of curious panics,
Of
hard-fought engagements or sieges tremendous what deepest
remains?
2
O maidens and young men I
love and that love me,
What you ask of my days those the
strangest and sudden your talking
recalls,
Soldier
alert I arrive after a long march cover'd with sweat and
dust,
In the nick of time I come, plunge in the fight,
loudly shout in the
rush of successful charge,
Enter
the captur'd works--yet lo, like a swift-running river they
fade,
Pass and are gone they fade--I dwell not on
soldiers' perils or
soldiers' joys
(Both I remember
well--many the hardships, few the joys, yet I was
content).
But in silence, in dreams' projections,
While the world of gain and appearance and mirth goes on,
So soon what is over forgotten, and waves wash the imprints
off the
sand,
With hinged knees returning I enter the
doors (while for you up there,
Whoever you are, follow
without noise and be of strong heart).
Bearing the
bandages, water and sponge,
Straight and swift to my
wounded I go,
Where they lie on the ground after the
battle brought in,
Where their priceless blood reddens
the grass, the ground,
Or to the rows of the hospital
tent, or under the roof'd hospital,
To the long rows of
cots up and down each side I return,
To each and all one
after another I draw near, not one do I miss,
An
attendant follows holding a tray, he carries a refuse pail,
Soon to be fill'd with clotted rags and blood, emptied, and
fill'd
again.
I onward go, I stop,
With hinged
knees and steady hand to dress wounds,
I am firm with
each, the pangs are sharp yet unavoidable,
One turns to
me his appealing eyes--poor boy! I never knew you,
Yet I
think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that
would save you.
3
On, on I go (open
doors of time! open hospital doors!)
The crush'd head I
dress (poor crazed hand tear not the bandage away),
The
neck of the cavalry-man with the bullet through and through
I
examine,
Hard the breathing rattles, quite glazed
already the eye, yet life
struggles hard,
(Come sweet
death! be persuaded O beautiful death!
In mercy come
quickly).
From the stump of the arm, the amputated
hand,
I undo the clotted lint, remove the slough, wash
off the matter and
blood,
Back on his pillow the
soldier bends with curv'd neck and side-falling
head,
His eyes are closed, his face is pale, he dares not look on
the bloody
stump,
And has not yet look'd on it.
I dress a wound in the side, deep, deep,
But a day or
two more, for see the frame all wasted and sinking,
And
the yellow-blue countenance see.
I dress the
perforated shoulder, the foot with the bullet-wound,
Cleanse the one with a gnawing and putrid gangrene, so
sickening, so
offensive,
While the attendant stands
behind aside me holding the tray and pail.
I am
faithful, I do not give out,
The fractur'd thigh, the
knee, the wound in the abdomen,
These and more I dress
with impassive hand (yet deep in my breast a
fire, a
burning flame).
4
Thus in silence in
dreams' projections,
Returning, resuming, I thread my way
through the hospitals,
The hurt and wounded I pacify with
soothing hand,
I sit by the restless all the dark night,
some are so young,
Some suffer so much, I recall the
experience sweet and sad
(Many a soldier's loving arms
about this neck have cross'd and rested,
Many a soldier's
kiss dwells on these bearded lips). |
