"The Artilleryman" by by Walt Whitman (Poetry Collection)

December 22, 2009 by storybus

The Artilleryman read or listen
WhiLE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and -the wars are over long,
And my head on -the pillow rests at home, and -the vacant midnight passes,
And through -the stillness, through -the dark, I hear, just hear, -the breath of my infant,

There in -the room, as I wake from sleep, this vision presses upon me:
The engagement opens -there and -then, in fantasy unreal;
The skirmishers begin—-they crawl cautiously ahead—I hear -the irregular snap! snap!
I hear -the sounds of -the different missiles—-the short t-h-t! t-h-t! of -the rifle balls;
I see -the shells exploding, leaving small white clouds—I hear -the great shells shrieking as -they pass;
The grape, like -the hum and whirr of wind through -the trees, (quick, tumultuous, now -the contest rages!)
All -the scenes at -the batteries -themselves rise in detail before me again;
The crashing and smoking—-the pride of -the men in -their pieces;
The chief gunner ranges and sights his piece, and selects a fuse of -the right time;
After firing, I see him lean aside, and look eagerly off to note -the effect;
—Elsewhere I hear -the cry of a regiment charging—(-the young colonel leads himself this time, with brandish’d sword;)
I see -the gaps cut by -the enemy’s volleys, (quickly fill’d up, no delay;)
I brea-the -the suffocating smoke—-then -the flat clouds hover low, concealing all;
Now a strange lull comes for a few seconds, not a shot fired on ei-ther side;
Then resumed, -the chaos louder than ever, with eager calls, and orders of officers;
While from some distant part of -the field -the wind wafts to my ears a shout of applause, (some special success;)
And ever -the sound of -the cannon, far or near, (rousing, even in dreams, a devilish exultation, and all -the old mad joy, in -the depths of my soul;)
And ever -the hastening of infantry shifting positions—batteries, cavalry, moving hi-ther and thi-ther;
(The falling, dying, I heed not—-the wounded, dripping and red, I heed not—some to -the rear are hobbling;)
Grime, heat, rush—aid-de-camps galloping by, or on a full run;
With -the patter of small arms, -the warning s-s-t of -the rifles, (-these in my vision I hear or see,)
And bombs busting in air, and at night -the vari-color’d rockets.