Published Works

Books by Whitman

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CAMPS OF GREEN.

—————

1 NOT alone our camps of white, O soldiers,

When, as order'd forward, after a long march,

Footsore and weary, soon as the light lessens, we halt
for the night;

Some of us so fatigued, carrying the gun and knapsack,
dropping asleep in our tracks;

Others pitching the little tents, and the fires lit up begin
to sparkle;

Outposts of pickets posted, surrounding, alert through
the dark,

And a word provided for countersign, careful for safety;

Till to the call of the drummers at daybreak loudly
beating the drums,

We rise up refresh'd, the night and sleep pass'd over,
and resume our journey,

Or proceed to battle.

2Lo! the camps of the tents of green,

Which the days of peace keep filling, and the days of
war keep filling,

With a mystic army, (is it too order'd forward? is it too
only halting awhile,

Till night and sleep pass over?)

3Now in those camps of green—in their tents dotting
the world;

In the parents, children, husbands, wives, in them—
in the old and young,

Sleeping under the sunlight, sleeping under the moon-
light, content and silent there at last,

Behold the mighty bivouac-field, and waiting-camp of
us and ours and all,

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Of our corps and generals all, and the President over the
corps and generals all,

And of each of us, O soldiers, and of each and all in the
ranks we fight,

(There without hatred we shall all meet.)

4For presently, O soldiers, we too camp in our place
in the bivouac-camps of green;

But we need not provide for outposts, nor word for
the countersign,

Nor drummer to beat the morning drum.

Distributed under a Creative Commons License. Matt Cohen, Ed Folsom, & Kenneth M. Price, editors.