A MARCH IN THE RANKS HARD-PREST, AND THE ROAD UNKNOWN.
Walt Whitman
During the Civil War Whitman worked as a clerk in Washington. When his
brother was wounded at Fredericksburg, Whitman went there to care for him and
also
for other Union and Confederate soldiers.
A march in the ranks hard-prest, and the road unknown,
A route through a heavy wood with muffled steps in the darkness,
Our army foil'd with loss severe, and the sullen remnant retreating,
Till after midnight glimmer upon us the lights of a dim-lighted building,
We come to an open space in the woods, and halt by the dim-lighted building,
'Tis a large old church at the crossing roads, now an impromptu hospital,
Entering but for a minute I see a sight beyond all the pictures and poems ever
made,
Shadows of deepest, deepest black, just lit by moving candles and lamps,
And by one great pitchy torch stationary with wild red flame and clouds of
smoke,
By these, crowds, groups of forms vaguely I see on the floor, some in the pews
laid down,
At my feet more distinctly a soldier, a mere lad, in danger of bleeding to
death, (he is shot in the abdomen,)
|I staunch the blood temporarily, (the youngster's face is white as a lily,)
Then before I depart I sweep my eyes o'er the scene fain to absorb it all,
Faces, varieties, postures beyond description, most in obscurity, some of them
dead,
Surgeons operating, attendants holding lights, the smell of ether, the odor of
blood,
The crowd, O the crowd of the bloody forms, the yard outside also fill'd,
Some on the bare ground, some on planks or stretchers, some in the death-spasm
sweating,
An occasional scream or cry, the doctor's shouted orders or calls,
The glisten of the little steel instruments catching the glint of the torches,
These I resume as I chant, I see again the forms, I smell the odor,
Then hear outside the orders given, _Fall in, my men, fall in_;
But first I bend to the dying lad, his eyes open, a half-smile gives he me,
Then the eyes close, calmly close, and I speed forth to the darkness,
Resuming, marching, ever in darkness marching, on in the ranks,
The unknown road still marching.