by Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892)
Vigil strange I kept on the field one...
Language: English
Vigil strange I kept on the field one night: When you, my son and my comrade, dropt at my side that day, One look I but gave, which your dear eyes return'd, with a look I shall never forget; One touch of your hand to mine, O boy, reach'd up as you lay on the ground; Then onward I sped in the battle, the even-contested battle; Till late in the night reliev'd, to the place at last again I made my way; Found you in death so cold, dear comrade -- found your body, son of responding kisses, (never again on earth responding;) Bared your face in the starlight -- curious the scene -- cool blew the moderate night-wind; Long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me the battlefield spreading; Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet, there in the fragrant silent night; But not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh -- Long, long I gazed; Then on the earth partially reclining, sat by your side, leaning my chin in my hands; Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade -- Not a tear, not a word; Vigil of silence, love and death -- vigil for you my son and my soldier, As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole; Vigil final for you, brave boy, (I could not save you, swift was your death, I faithfully loved you and cared for you living -- I think we shall surely meet again;) Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the dawn appear'd, My comrade I wrapt in his blanket, envelop'd well his form, Folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully over head, and carefully under feet; And there and then, and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude-dug grave I deposited; Ending my vigil strange with that -- vigil of night and battlefield dim; Vigil for boy of responding kisses, (never again on earth responding;) Vigil for comrade swiftly slain -- vigil I never forget, how as day brighten'd, I rose from the chill ground, and folded my soldier well in his blanket, And buried him where he fell.
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Text Authorship:
- by Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892), "Vigil strange I kept on the field" [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Richard Pearson Thomas (b. 1957), "Vigil", from Drum Taps, no. 5. [text not verified]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2008-10-15
Line count: 30
Word count: 357