1
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;
Years hence of these scenes, of these furious passions, these chances,
Of unsurpassd heroes, (was one side so brave? the other was equally brave;)
Now be witness againpaint 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?
2
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, coverd 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 capturd works.... yet lo! like a swift-running river, they fade;
Pass and are gone, they fadeI dwell not on soldiers perils or soldiers
joys;
(Both I remember wellmany 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,
In natures reverie sad, with hinged knees returning, I enter the doors(while
for
you up
there,
Whoever you are, follow me without noise, and be of strong heart.)
3
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 roofd hospital;
To the long rows of cots, up and down, each side, I return;
To each and all, one after another, I draw nearnot one do I miss;
An attendant follows, holding a trayhe carries a refuse pail,
Soon to be filld with clotted rags and blood, emptied and filld again.
I onward go, I stop,
With hinged knees and steady hand, to dress wounds;
I am firm with eachthe 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.)
4
On, on I go!(open doors of time! open hospital doors!)
The crushd 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 curvd 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 lookd on it.)
I dress a wound in the side, deep, deep;
But a day or two morefor see, the frame all wasted already, and sinking,
And 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 fracturd 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.)
5
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 nightsome are so young;
Some suffer so muchI recall the experience sweet and sad;
(Many a soldiers loving arms about this neck have crossd and rested,
Many a soldiers kiss dwells on these bearded lips.)
Dresser, The.
written byWalt Whitman
© Walt Whitman