Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field One Night

Vigil strange I kept on the field one night;When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day,One look I but gave which your dear eyes return’d with a look Ishall never forget,One touch of your hand to mine O boy, reach’d up as you lay on the ground,Then onward I sped in the battle, the even-contested battle,Till late in the night reliev’d to the place at last again I made my way,Found you in death so cold dear comrade, found your body son ofresponding kisses, (never again on earth responding,)Bared your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blew themoderate night-wind,Long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me thebattlefield spreading,Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night,But not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed,Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side leaning mychin in my hands,Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearestcomrade--not a tear, not a word,Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier,As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole,Vigil final for you brave boy, (I could not save you, swift was your death,I faithfully loved you and cared for you living, I think we shallsurely meet again,)Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the dawn appear’d,My comrade I wrapt in his blanket, envelop’d well his form,Folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully over head andcarefully under feet,And there and then and bathed by the rising sun, my son in hisgrave, in his rude-dug grave I deposited,Ending my vigil strange with that, vigil of night and battle-field dim,Vigil for boy of responding kisses, (never again on earth responding,)Vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget, how as daybrighten’d,I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket,And buried him where he fell.

A march in the ranks hard-prest, and the road unknown,A route through a heavy wood with muffled steps in the darkness,Our army foil’d with loss severe, and the sullen remnant retreating,Till after midnight glimmer upon us the lights of a dim-lighted building,We come to an open space in the woods, and halt by the dim-lighted building,’Tis a large old church at the crossing roads, now an impromptu hospital,Entering but for a minute I see a sight beyond all the pictures andpoems ever made,Shadows of deepest, deepest black, just lit by moving candles and lamps,And by one great pitchy torch stationary with wild red flame andclouds of smoke,By these, crowds, groups of forms vaguely I see on the floor, somein the pews laid down,At my feet more distinctly a soldier, a mere lad, in danger ofbleeding to death, (he is shot in the abdomen,)I stanch the blood temporarily, (the youngster’s face is white as a lily,)Then before I depart I sweep my eyes o’er the scene fain to absorb it all,Faces, varieties, postures beyond description, most in obscurity,some of them dead,Surgeons operating, attendants holding lights, the smell of ether,odor of blood,The crowd, O the crowd of the bloody forms, the yard outside also fill’d,Some on the bare ground, some on planks or stretchers, some in thedeath-spasm sweating,An occasional scream or cry, the doctor’s shouted orders or calls,The glisten of the little steel instruments catching the glint ofthe torches,These I resume as I chant, I see again the forms, I smell the odor,Then hear outside the orders given, Fall in, my men, fall in;But first I bend to the dying lad, his eyes open, a half-smile gives he me,Then the eyes close, calmly close, and I speed forth to the darkness,Resuming, marching, ever in darkness marching, on in the ranks,The unknown road still marching.

A sight in camp in the daybreak gray 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,Gray and heavy blanket, folding, covering all.

Curious I halt and silent stand,Then with light fingers I from the face of the nearest the firstjust lift the blanket;Who are you elderly man so gaunt and grim, with well-gray’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 ofbeautiful yellow-white ivory;Young man I think I know you--I think this face is the face of theChrist himself,Dead and divine and brother of all, and here again he lies.