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Walt Whitman - As Toilsome I Wander’d.

AS toilsome I wander’d Virginia’s woods, 
To the music of rustling leaves, kick’d by my feet, (for ’twas autumn,) 
I mark’d at the foot of a tree the grave of a soldier, 
Mortally wounded he, and buried on the retreat, (easily all could I understand;) 
The halt of a mid-day hour, when up! no time to lose—yet this sign left,
On a tablet scrawl’d and nail’d on the tree by the grave, 
Bold, cautious, true, and my loving comrade. 
Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering; 
Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of life; 
Yet at times through changeful season and scene, abrupt, alone, or in the crowded street,
Comes before me the unknown soldier’s grave—comes the inscription rude in
Bold, cautious, true, and my loving comrade.

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Added: Feb 7 2004 | Viewed: 6110 times | Comments and analysis of As Toilsome I Wander’d. by Walt Whitman Comments (1)

As Toilsome I Wander’d. - Comments and Information

Poet: Walt Whitman
Poem: 17. As Toilsome I Wander’d.
Volume: Leaves of Grass
- 8. Drum-Taps
Year: Published/Written in 1900
Poem of the Day: Nov 27 2009

Comment 1 of 1, added on November 18th, 2004 at 5:55 PM.

Me gusta mucho Walt Whitman. Me encanta.


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