| |
|
I
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,
(Aroused and angry, I'd thought to beat the alarum, and
urge relentless war,
But soon my fingers failed me,
my face drooped and I resigned 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 unsurpassed 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?
II
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 covered 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 captured
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 roofed
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
filled with clotted rags and blood, emptied, and filled
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.
III
On, on I go,
(open doors of time! open hospital doors!)
The
crushed 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 curved 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 looked 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,
Ands 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 fractured 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.)
IV
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 crossed and rested,
Many a soldier's kiss dwells
on these bearded lips.)
|
|
|
