In Midnight Sleep

Walt Whitman


   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.


   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.


   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.                                     10

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