Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side
leaning my chin in my hands,
Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearest
comrade--not a tear, not a word,
Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier,
As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole,
Vigil final for you brave boy, (I could not save you, swift was
your death,
I faithfully loved you and cared for you living,
I think we shall surely meet again,)
Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the
dawn appear'd,
My comrade I wrapt in his blanket, envelop'd well his form,
Folded the blanket well, tucked it carefully over head and
carefully under feet,
And there and then and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave,
in his rude-dug grave I deposited,
Ending my strange vigil with that, vigil of night and battlefield dim,
Vigil for boy of responding kisses (never again on earth responding),
Vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget,
how as day brighten'd,
I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket,
And buried him where he fell.


SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY

What is a vigil? Was Whitman ever in battle? Does he mean himself
speaking? Was the boy really his son? Is the man's calmness a sign that
he does not care? Why does he call the vigil "wondrous" and "sweet"?