A Sight in Camp in the Daybreak Gray and Dim

A sight in camp in the daybreak gray and dim,
As from my tent I emerge so early sleepless,
As slow I walk in the cool fresh air the path near by
　　　the hospital tent,
Three forms I see on stretchers lying, brought out there
　　　untended lying,
Over each the blanket spread, ample brownish woolen
　　　blanket,
Gray and heavy blanket, folding, covering all.

Curious I halt and silent stand,
Then with light fingers I from the face of the nearest
　　　the first
just lift the blanket;
Who are you elderly man so gaunt and grim, with well-
　　　gray'd hair,
　　　and flesh all sunken about the eyes?
Who are you my dear comrade?
Then to the second I step--and who are you my child
　　　and darling?
Who are you sweet boy with cheeks yet blooming?
Then to the third--a face nor child nor old, very calm,
　　　as of
beautiful yellow-white ivory;
Young man I think I know you--I think this face is the
　　　face of the
Christ himself,
Dead and divine and brother of all, and here again he lies.