Reconciliation

Walt Whitman

   WORD over all, beautiful as the sky!
   Beautiful that war, and all its deeds of carnage, must in time be
         utterly lost;
   That the hands of the sisters Death and Night, incessantly softly
         wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world:
   ... For my enemy is dead--a man divine as myself is dead;
   I look where he lies, white-faced and still, in the coffin--I draw
         near;
   I bend down, and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the
         coffin.

Index + Blog :

Poetry Archive Index | Blog : Poem of the Day