Poem by Walt Whitman

Leaves of Grass. 21. Drum-Taps. 13. By the Bivouac's Fitful Flame

By the bivouac's fitful flame,
A procession winding around me, solemn and sweet and slow—but
      first I note,
The tents of the sleeping army, the fields' and woods' dim outline,
The darkness lit by spots of kindled fire, the silence,
Like a phantom far or near an occasional figure moving,
The shrubs and trees, (as I lift my eyes they seem to be stealthily
      watching me,)
While wind in procession thoughts, O tender and wondrous thoughts,
Of life and death, of home and the past and loved, and of those that
      are far away;
A solemn and slow procession there as I sit on the ground,
By the bivouac's fitful flame.

1. Leaves of Grass. 35. Good-Bye My Fancy. 18. Sounds of the Winter
2. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 28. Old Salt Kossabone
3. Leaves of Grass. 35. Good-Bye My Fancy. 14. Interpolation Sounds
4. Leaves of Grass. 35. Good-Bye My Fancy. 23. A Persian Lesson
5. Leaves of Grass. 20. By the Roadside. 28. Offerings

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