Hymn of Dead Soldiers
1 ONE breath, O my silent soul,
A perfum’d thought—no more I ask, for the sake of all
dead soldiers.
2 Buglers off in my armies!
At present I ask not you to sound;
Not at the head of my cavalry, all on their spirited
horses,
With their sabres drawn and glist’ning, and carbines
clanking by their thighs—(ah, my brave horse–
men!
My handsome, tan-faced horsemen! what life, what joy
and pride,
With all the perils, were yours!)
3 Nor you drummers—neither at reveille, at dawn,
Nor the long roll alarming the camp—nor even the
muffled beat for a burial;
Nothing from you, this time, O drummers, bearing my
warlike drums.
4 But aside from these, and the crowd’s hurrahs, and
the land’s congratulations,
Admitting around me comrades close, unseen by the
the rest, and voiceless,
I chant this chant of my silent soul, in the name of all
dead soldiers.
5 Faces so pale, with wondrous eyes, very dear, gather
closer yet;
Draw close, but speak not.
6 Phantoms, welcome, divine and tender!
Invisible to the rest, henceforth become my compan–
ions;
Follow me ever! desert me not, while I live.
7 Sweet are the blooming cheeks of the living! sweet
are the musical voices sounding!
But sweet, ah sweet, are the dead, with their silent eyes.
8 Dearest comrades! all now is over;
But love is not over—and what love, O comrades!
Perfume from battle-fields rising—up from fœtor
arising.
9 Perfume therefore my chant, O love! immortal Love!
Give me to bathe the memories of all dead soldiers.
10 Perfume all! make all wholesome!
O love! O chant! solve all with the last chemistry.
11 Give me exhaustless—make me a fountain,
That I exhale love from me wherever I go,
For the sake of all dead soldiers.
Drum-Taps
Other works by Walt Whitman...
