A Sight in Camp in the Daybreak Gray and Dim

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 first just 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 of beautiful yellow-white ivory; 
Young man I think I know you-- I think this face is the face of the Christ himself,
Dead and divine and brother of all, and here again he lies.

Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman was a faithful caretaker of the wounded
during the Civil War in Washington, D.C.

return to 2/08 CPF Newsletter