Old War-Dreams

In midnight sleep of many a face of anguish,
Of the look at first of the mortally wounded, (of that
　　　indescribable look,)
Of the dead on their backs with arms extended wide,
I dream, I dream, I dream.

Of scenes of Nature, fields and mountains,
Of skies so beauteous after a storm, and at night the
　　　moon so unearthly bright,
Shining sweetly, shining down, where we dig the trenches
　　　and gather the heaps,
I dream, I dream, I dream.

Long have they pass'd, faces and trenches and fields,
Where through the carnage I moved with a callous
　　　composure, or away from the fallen,
Onward I sped at the time--but now of their forms
　　　at night,
I dream, I dream, I dream.