the wound dresser by Walt Whitman read for librivox.org by Chris pile an old man bending I come among new faces years Looking Backward resuming in answer to children come tell us old man as from young men and maidens that love me aroused and angry I thought to beat the alarm and urge Relentless War but soon my fingers failed me my face drooped and I resigned myself to sit by the wounded and soothe them or silently watch the Dead here's hints of these scenes of these Furious passions these chances of unsurpassed Heroes was one side so brave the other was equally Brave now be witness again paint the mightiest armies of Earth of those armies so rapid so wondrous what saw you to tell us what stays with you latest and deepest of curious panics of hardfought engagements or sieges tremendous what deepest remains oh maidens and young men I love and that love me what you ask of my days those the strangest and sudden your talking recalls Soldier alert I arrive after a long march covered with sweat and dust in the nick of time I come Plunge in the fight loudly shout in the rush of successful charge enter the captured Works yet low like a swift running River they fade pass and are gone they fade I dwell not on soldiers perils or soldiers Joys both I remember well many of the hardships few of the joys yet I was content but in silence in dreams projections while the world of gain and appearance and mirth goes on so so soon what is over forgotten and waves wash the imprint off the sand with hinged knees returning I enter the doors while for you up there whoever you are follow without noise and be of strong heart bearing the bandages water and sponge straight and Swift of my wounded I go where they lie on the ground after the battle brought in where their Priceless blood reddens the grass the ground or the rows of the hospital tent or under the roofed hospital till the long rows of cots up and down each side I return to each and all after another I draw near not one do I miss an attendant follows holding a tray he carries a refuge pale soon to be filled with clotted rags and blood emptied and filled again I onward go I stop with hinged knees and Steady Hand toess wounds I am firm with each the pangs are sharp yet unavoidable One turns to me his appealing eyes poor boy I never knew you yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you if that was would save you on on I go open doors of time open Hospital doors the crushed head I dress poor crazed hand tear not the bandage away the neck of the Cavalry man with a bullet through and through examined hard the breathing rattles quite glazed already the eye yet life struggles hard come Sweet Death be persuaded Oh Beautiful Death in Mercy come quickly from the stump of the arm the amputated hand I undo the clotted lint remove the slough wash off the matter in blood back on his pillow the soldier bends with curved neck and side falling head his eyes are closed his face is pale he dares not look on the bloody stump and has not yet looked on it I dress a wound in the side deep deep but a day or two more for see the frame all wasted and sinking and the yellow blue countenance see I dress the perforated shoulder the foot with the bullet wound cleanse the one with a gnawing puche Gang Green so sickening so offensive while the attendant stands behind aside me holding the tray in pale I am faithful I do not give out the fractured thigh the knee the wound in the abdomen these and more I dress with impassive hand yet deep in my breast a fire A Burning Flame thus in silence and dreams projections returning resuming I thread my way through the hospitals the hurt and wounded I pacify with soothing hand I sit by the Restless all the Dark Nights some are so young some suffer so much I recall the experience sweet and sad many of soldiers Loving Arms about this neck of crossed and rested many a soldier's kiss dwells on these bearded lips end of poem this recording is in the public domain thank you for listening