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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535155" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Dresser</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">AN old man bending, I come, among new faces,<br> Years looking backward, resuming, in answer to children,<br> Come tell us, old man, as from young men and maidens that love me;<br> Years hence of these scenes, of these furious passions, these<br> chances,<br> Of unsurpass'd heroes, (was one side so brave? the other was equally<br> brave;)<br> Now be witness again--paint the mightiest armies of earth;<br> Of those armies so rapid, so wondrous, what saw you to tell us?<br> What stays with you latest and deepest? of curious panics,<br> Of hard-fought engagements, or sieges tremendous, what deepest<br> remains?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O maidens and young men I love, and that love me,  10<br> What you ask of my days, those the strangest and sudden your talking<br> recalls;<br> Soldier alert I arrive, after a long march, cover'd with sweat and<br> dust;<br> In the nick of time I come, plunge in the fight, loudly shout in the<br> rush of successful charge;<br> Enter the captur'd works.... yet lo! like a swift-running river, they<br> fade;<br> Pass and are gone, they fade--I dwell not on soldiers' perils or<br> soldiers' joys;<br> (Both I remember well--many the hardships, few the joys, yet I was<br> content.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But in silence, in dreams' projections,<br> While the world of gain and appearance and mirth goes on,<br> So soon what is over forgotten, and waves wash the imprints off the<br> sand,<br> In nature's reverie sad, with hinged knees returning, I enter the<br> doors--(while for you up there,  20<br> Whoever you are, follow me without noise, and be of strong heart.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Bearing the bandages, water and sponge,<br> Straight and swift to my wounded I go,<br> Where they lie on the ground, after the battle brought in;<br> Where their priceless blood reddens the grass, the ground;<br> Or to the rows of the hospital tent, or under the roof'd hospital;<br> To the long rows of cots, up and down, each side, I return;<br> To each and all, one after another, I draw near--not one do I miss;<br> An attendant follows, holding a tray--he carries a refuse pail,<br> Soon to be fill'd with clotted rags and blood, emptied and fill'd<br> again.    30</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I onward go, I stop,<br> With hinged knees and steady hand, to dress wounds;<br> I am firm with each--the pangs are sharp, yet unavoidable;<br> One turns to me his appealing eyes--(poor boy! I never knew you,<br> Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that<br> would save you.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> On, on I go!--(open doors of time! open hospital doors!)<br> The crush'd head I dress, (poor crazed hand, tear not the bandage<br> away;)<br> The neck of the cavalry-man, with the bullet through and through, I<br> examine;<br> Hard the breathing rattles, quite glazed already the eye, yet life<br> struggles hard;<br> (Come, sweet death! be persuaded, O beautiful death! 40<br> In mercy come quickly.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> From the stump of the arm, the amputated hand,<br> I undo the clotted lint, remove the slough, wash off the matter and<br> blood;<br> Back on his pillow the soldier bends, with curv'd neck, and side-<br> falling head;<br> His eyes are closed, his face is pale, (he dares not look on the<br> bloody stump,<br> And has not yet look'd on it.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I dress a wound in the side, deep, deep;<br> But a day or two more--for see, the frame all wasted already, and<br> sinking,<br> And the yellow-blue countenance see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I dress the perforated shoulder, the foot with the bullet wound, 50<br> Cleanse the one with a gnawing and putrid gangrene, so sickening, so<br> offensive,<br> While the attendant stands behind aside me, holding the tray and<br> pail.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I am faithful, I do not give out;<br> The fractur'd thigh, the knee, the wound in the abdomen,<br> These and more I dress with impassive hand--(yet deep in my breast a<br> fire, a burning flame.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Thus in silence, in dreams' projections,<br> Returning, resuming, I thread my way through the hospitals;<br> The hurt and wounded I pacify with soothing hand,<br> I sit by the restless all the dark night--some are so young;<br> Some suffer so much--I recall the experience sweet and sad; 60<br> (Many a soldier's loving arms about this neck have cross'd and<br> rested,<br> Many a soldier's kiss dwells on these bearded lips.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Walt+Whitman">Walt Whitman</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535155" data-title="The Dresser de Walt Whitman" data-description="AN old man bending, I come, among new faces,
 Years looking backward, resuming, in answer to children,
 Come tell us, old man, as from young men and maidens that love me;
 Years hence of these scenes, of these furious passions, these
 chances,
 Of..."></div>
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