1
IN midnight sleep, of many a face of anguish, 
Of the look at first of the mortally wounded—of that indescribable look; 
Of the dead on their backs, with arms extended wide, 
    I dream, I dream, I dream. 
  
2
Of scenes of nature, fields and mountains;
Of skies, so beauteous after a storm—and at night the moon so unearthly bright, 
Shining sweetly, shining down, where we dig the trenches and gather the heaps, 
    I dream, I dream, I dream. 
  
3
Long, long have they pass’d—faces and trenches and fields; 
Where through the carnage I moved with a callous composure—or away from the fallen,
Onward I sped at the time—But now of their forms at night, 
    I dream, I dream, I dream.

Added: on March 5th, 2006 at 4:15 PM | Viewed: 12650 times | Comments (1)

Poet: Walt Whitman
Poem: 2. In Midnight Sleep.
Volume: Leaves of Grass
- 16. Ashes of Soldiers
Year: Published/Written in 1900
Poem of the Day: Feb 17 2005

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