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Leaves of Grass (1891-92)
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THE ARTILLERYMAN'S VISION.
WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over
long,
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And my head on the pillow rests at home, and the vacant mid-
night passes,
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And through the stillness, through the dark, I hear, just hear, the
breath of my infant,
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There in the room as I wake from sleep this vision pressesupon me; |
The engagement opens there and then in fantasy unreal, |
The skirmishers begin, they crawl cautiously ahead, I hear the
irregular snap! snap!
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I hear the sounds of the different missiles, the short t-h-t! t-h-t!
of the rifle-balls,
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I see the shells exploding leaving small white clouds, I hear the
great shells shrieking as they pass,
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The grape like the hum and whirr of wind through the trees,
(tumultuous now the contest rages,)
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All the scenes at the batteries 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,
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After firing I see him lean aside and look eagerly off to note the
effect;
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Elsewhere I hear the cry of a regiment charging, (the young
colonel leads himself this time with brandish'd sword,)
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I see the gaps cut by the enemy's volleys, (quickly fill'd up, no
delay,)
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I breathe the suffocating smoke, then the flat clouds hover low
concealing all;
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Now a strange lull for a few seconds, not a shot fired on either side, |
Then resumed the chaos louder than ever, with eager calls and
orders of officers,
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While from some distant part of the field the wind wafts to my
ears a shout of applause, (some special success,)
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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,)
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And ever the hastening of infantry shifting positions, batteries,
cavalry, moving hither and thither,
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(The falling, dying, I heed not, the wounded dripping and red I
heed not, some to the rear are hobbling,)
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Grime, heat, rush, aide-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,)
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And bombs bursting in air, and at night the vari-color'd rockets. |
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