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Leaves of Grass (1881-82)
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RECONCILIATION.
| WORD over all, beautiful as the sky, |
Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage must in time be
utterly lost,
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That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly
wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world;
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| For my enemy is dead, a man divine as myself is dead, |
I look where he lies white-faced and still in the coffin—I draw
near,
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Bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the
coffin.
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