Poetry?
128 (http://www.bartleby.com/142/1012.html#128). The Dresser
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AN old man bending, I come, among new faces,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Years looking backward, resuming, in answer to children,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Come tell us, old man, as from young men and maidens that love me;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Years hence of these scenes, of these furious passions, these chances,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Of unsurpass’d heroes, (was one side so brave? the other was equally brave;)</td><td align="right" valign="top"> 5</td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Now be witness again—paint the mightiest armies of earth;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Of those armies so rapid, so wondrous, what saw you to tell us?</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">What stays with you latest and deepest? of curious panics,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Of hard-fought engagements, or sieges tremendous, what deepest remains?</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left"><center>2</center>
O maidens and young men I love, and that love me,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> 10</td></tr> <tr><td align="left">What you ask of my days, those the strangest and sudden your talking recalls;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Soldier alert I arrive, after a long march, cover’d with sweat and dust;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">In the nick of time I come, plunge in the fight, loudly shout in the rush of successful charge;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Enter the captur’d works.... yet lo! like a swift-running river, they fade;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Pass and are gone, they fade—I dwell not on soldiers’ perils or soldiers’ joys;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> 15</td></tr> <tr><td align="left">(Both I remember well—many the hardships, few the joys, yet I was content.)</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">But in silence, in dreams’ projections,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">While the world of gain and appearance and mirth goes on,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">So soon what is over forgotten, and waves wash the imprints off the sand,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">In nature’s reverie sad, with hinged knees returning, I enter the doors—(while for you up there,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> 20</td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Whoever you are, follow me without noise, and be of strong heart.)</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left"><center>3</center>
Bearing the bandages, water and sponge,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Straight and swift to my wounded I go,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Where they lie on the ground, after the battle brought in;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Where their priceless blood reddens the grass, the ground;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> 25</td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Or to the rows of the hospital tent, or under the roof’d hospital;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">To the long rows of cots, up and down, each side, I return;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">To each and all, one after another, I draw near—not one do I miss;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">An attendant follows, holding a tray—he carries a refuse pail,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Soon to be fill’d with clotted rags and blood, emptied and fill’d again.</td><td align="right" valign="top"> 30</td></tr> <tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">I onward go, I stop,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">With hinged knees and steady hand, to dress wounds;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">I am firm with each—the pangs are sharp, yet unavoidable;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">One turns to me his appealing eyes—(poor boy! I never knew you,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you.)</td><td align="right" valign="top"> 35</td></tr> <tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left"><center>4</center>
On, on I go!—(open doors of time! open hospital doors!)</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">The crush’d head I dress, (poor crazed hand, tear not the bandage away;)</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">The neck of the cavalry-man, with the bullet through and through, I examine;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Hard the breathing rattles, quite glazed already the eye, yet life struggles hard;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">(Come, sweet death! be persuaded, O beautiful death!</td><td align="right" valign="top"> 40</td></tr> <tr><td align="left">In mercy come quickly.)</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">From the stump of the arm, the amputated hand,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">I undo the clotted lint, remove the slough, wash off the matter and blood;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Back on his pillow the soldier bends, with curv’d neck, and side-falling head;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">His eyes are closed, his face is pale, (he dares not look on the bloody stump,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> 45</td></tr> <tr><td align="left">And has not yet look’d on it.)</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">I dress a wound in the side, deep, deep;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">But a day or two more—for see, the frame all wasted already, and sinking,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">And the yellow-blue countenance see.</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">I dress the perforated shoulder, the foot with the bullet wound,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> 50</td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Cleanse the one with a gnawing and putrid gangrene, so sickening, so offensive,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">While the attendant stands behind aside me, holding the tray and pail.</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">I am faithful, I do not give out;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">The fractur’d thigh, the knee, the wound in the abdomen,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">These and more I dress with impassive hand—(yet deep in my breast a fire, a burning flame.)</td><td align="right" valign="top"> 55</td></tr> <tr><td align="left"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left"><center>5</center>
Thus in silence, in dreams’ projections,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Returning, resuming, I thread my way through the hospitals;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">The hurt and wounded I pacify with soothing hand,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">I sit by the restless all the dark night—some are so young;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Some suffer so much—I recall the experience sweet and sad;</td><td align="right" valign="top"> 60</td></tr> <tr><td align="left">(Many a soldier’s loving arms about this neck have cross’d and rested,</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> <tr><td align="left">Many a soldier’s kiss dwells on these bearded lips.)</td><td align="right" valign="top"> </td></tr> </tbody></table>