Verse > Walt Whitman > Leaves of Grass
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Walt Whitman (1819–1892).  Leaves of Grass.  1900.

188. In Midnight Sleep


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;
         5
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,  10
Onward I sped at the time—But now of their forms at night, 
    I dream, I dream, I dream. 


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