Virgil Strange I Kept On The Field
VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night:
When you, my son and my comrade, dropt at my side that day,
One look I but gave, which your dear eyes return'd, with a look I
shall never forget;
One touch of your hand to mine, O boy, reach'd up as you lay on the
ground;
Then onward I sped in the battle, the even-contested battle;
Till late in the night reliev'd, to the place at last again I made my
way;
Found you in death so cold, dear comrade--found your body, son of
responding kisses, (never again on earth responding;)
Bared your face in the starlight--curious the scene--cool blew the
moderate night-wind;
Long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me the battlefield
spreading;
Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet, there in the fragrant silent
night; 10
But not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh--Long, long I gazed;
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, tucking it carefully over head, and
carefully under feet; 20
And there and then, and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his
grave, in his rude-dug grave I deposited;
Ending my vigil strange 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.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Related quotes
Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field one Night
Vigil strange I kept on the field one night;
When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day,
One look I but gave which your dear eyes return'd with a look I shall never forget,
One touch of your hand to mine O boy, reach'd up as you lay on the ground,
Then onward I sped in the battle, the even-contested battle,
Till late in the night reliev'd to the place at last again I made my way,
Found you in death so cold dear comrade, found your body son of responding kisses, (never again on earth responding,)
Bared your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blew the moderate night-wind,
Long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me the battle-field spreading,
Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night,
But not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed,
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, tucking 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 vigil strange with that, vigil of night and battle-field 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.
poem by Walt Whitman
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The dignity of the artist lies in his duty of keeping awake the sense of wonder in the world. In this long vigil he often has to vary his methods of stimulation; but in this long vigil he is also himself striving against a continual tendency to sleep.
quote by Marc Chagall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Wide The Dawn
How wide the Dawn
Is smiling!
How silent-new
The air is breathing!
How raw the sea
Without a wave
Is looking!
And in the night –
Id est last night
How strange
The owl chanteth!
How far, how far
Its cry did seem
And yet
It was so near!
How thrilled the tree
Below my lighted window
And in the night
The solemn night
The owl was still a-calling
To spirits wild
Perhaps
Or long white ghosts
Perhaps!
And in the eyes
Of the pale moon
The lake nearby glistened:
How white
How thin
The rays that fall
In midst of the dark waters!
And from the lake
A soundless sound
Is coming:
For in the waves
And from the waves
There comes a little gurgling
And in the night
In the long night
The owl is speaking, speaking!
Ah! this night – in the night
The people in the house
Are all a-sleeping
I – only I
The vigil, the night-vigil
Am making:
And I
And only I
Will my reward receive
For I
And only I
Am seeing
For I
And only I
Am hearing
And I
And only I
Am feeling!
How strange how sere
The feeling!
How from the clear night
The mist of sudden riseth!
And from afar
Past ten long fields
The cemetery is burning
With the pale light
Of the swift moon
That fall
On every wall
This long, long night!
It seems
It seems
That the cemetery’s open:
And yet
And yet
There is no noise
No sound
But from the yews
A soundless sound
Is coming:
A restless sound
Like souls
This night all-aching
And restless
Restless
At some thing
I am not hearing!
Ha! We on earth
Make prisons
And lodge
Bodies – human bodies in them:
And we on earth
Make cemeteries
And lodge
Bodies – human bodies in them
And the long night
Under the light
Of heaven
How waning-blue
And tight
Is coming!
So:
At long last
We fall into a prison
If not the one
In fine to the other
And at the last
And in the last
We enter our last prison:
And in the night
The long and lonely night
The cemetery is shining!
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Poppy Brown and I
We've spent a lot of time together
Poppy Brown and I,
Sitting by the window-ledge
Staring at the sky;
Keeping silent vigil watching
Up and down the street,
Passing many moments, Listening for her feet.
We've spent a lot of time together
Poppy Brown and I,
Playing out the hours
Passing slowly by;
Keeping silent company,
Quiet as the moon,
Waiting for our loved one,
Hoping she'll come soon.
We've spent a lot of time together
Poppy Brown and I,
Loving at the window-ledge
Waiting by and by;
Keeping silent vigil,
Playing out the night,
Looking to each other,
A kiss and then a fight.
We've spent a lot of time together
Poppy Brown and I,
Waiting out the hours
Willing them to fly;
Keeping silent company,
Our mutual request:
The imminent arrival of
The one we love the best.
(Written 28th March 2006)
poem by John Carter Brown
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Cheetah Vigil
The cheetah vigil first began
When hunters searched for game,
With rifles hanging from each man
Until they each took aim...
Then friends and foes were near to death,
As they fell one-by-one,
Upon the ground to fight for breath,
Before their lives were done...
The sound of guns would spook the birds
That settled in the trees.
The elephants were lost for words,
As death crept by degrees...
The orphaned remnant left behind
Escaped while they had time,
With grief still stirring in each mind
At such a ghastly crime.
What magic would men think of next?
What callous acts would come?
The cheetah paused, looked back perplexed,
Like others feeling numb...
Who gave these men the right to kill
For souvenirs not food?
To stand and fire guns at will
In this calm neighbourhood?
The cheetah sighed with great dismay
That chilled his very soul,
Yet kept his vigil through that day
With utmost self-control...
Tenacity can change the heart,
Turn good folks into bad,
These hunters came and wouldn't part
Till they'd got what was had...
From this day forth, the rules had changed,
The cheetah knew that well...
For now, no peace could be arranged
Within this newborn Hell.
The vigilant may yet survive,
Forewarned with time to hide...
To stay the fastest cat alive
Despite the grief inside...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cheetah Vigil'.
More Stephen Gayford poems:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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A Split Second!
When my unbidden years pass you for a split second, pause,
Like a column of stars rushing past the evening star, cause,
In the haze of their ageless vigil, you, to seem more distant.
Heart's seen you many a times, calls, love-lit lamps tolerant,
Patience stops time. Heart believes, mind more familiar with absence,
Wary- prevails. The flora must recognize, on the bee, her fragrance,
Making its way in mischievous things, though it floats in the wind,
Head held high must learn to lay its sword, stoop, hug & bend.
To the night it's losing of a few dew drops, but to me; sacrifice,
At the altar of pride. First glance, a blow of pain, a roll of dice,
A second is needed to show your face, in the candle that keeps vigil.
Both looked in sad disbelief, one spoke: 'Return a bit of our love,
That keeps the heart still, and counts not, but bows to its captor,
Steadies; for the winnin'of apathy or grasp of his hand in its failure.
Seema.joglekar
7th June-2012
poem by Seema joglekar
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why does God make me awake througout the night?
i know.
He wants me to be a bulb
that glows
the whole night.
i know.
He wants me to be a star
beside the moon.
i know
He wants me to vigil
over his Sorrow.
i know
He wants me to be different
from the rest of you.
i know
He wants me to write
a poem about the night.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The wedding cake couple
The wedding cake couple
Held hands on-top in vigil
Clinging on to each other tightly
There ‘I do's' written in song
Lasted just as long as it took!
Mother in law to take another
Man across the ebony dance floor.
Her six more devoured the cake
But are wedding cake couple
They still held hands in vigil
On the last tier of the disaffected
So they pervaded and kissed
But then great grandma waltzed
In like an elephant to depose
All those who imposed self will
She cared little for our wedding cake couple
She snapped them down the middle
Just to see if they weren't just candy too.
But are wedding cake couple
They still held hands somewhere later
They pervaded and kissed
And renewed their vows
Clinging on to each other tightly,
There 'I do's' written in song
Lasted just as long as it took!
The disco-ball world to end...
poem by Mark Heathcote
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A Dog's Tale for M' lady Ernestine
A dog’s tale
A small dog shows his loyalty
he sleeps beside his master grave.
By his own choice he is quite free
to seek the home he does not have.
He leaves his post by morning light
and sallies forth in search of food.
Where he is greeted with delight
by children from the neighbourhood.
Polite and friendly he’ll accept
what ever scraps may come his way.
The people know by night he slept
beside his masters grave, he lay.
This duty although self imposed
he carried out until he died
Though no one at that time supposed
his fame would spread, become world wide.
Granted freedom of the city
by order of the Lord Provost.
A reward for his constancy
an honour very few can boast.
Epitome of loyalty
this small dog earned his world wide fame.
By keeping vigil faithfully.
Grey Friars Bobby was his name.
His statue stands for all to see.
Today keeps vigil in his stead
but Bobby has gone hopefully
to lie beside his master’s bed.
The tourists come from far and wide
to view his statue and to see
the place where Bobby lived and died
in Greyfriars cemetery.
27-Jan-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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It was one long, anxious, inexorable, eternal vigil.
quote by Frank James
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dilettatish Hunger
Sitting in my porch lounger
I satiate my dilettantish hunger
With nocturnal devour
Of succulent silence
I dwell hours agape
In a blissful mope
Gazing at the sleeping milieu
Wondering once more
At the infinite beauty He heaved
With His magical caduceus
On the Earth’s canvas
From night-long vigil
I hardly pick few speckles
Of His boundless spectacle
I stand in awe of
His grand oeuvres ever-growing charm
That remains a connoisseur’s conundrum
Till the daybreak
To restart my temporal tasks! ! !
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Good-Night
THE lark is silent in his nest,
The breeze is sighing in its flight,
Sleep, Love, and peaceful be thy rest.
Good-night, my love, good-night, good-night.
Sweet dreams' attend thee in thy sleep,
To soothe thy rest till morning's light,
And angels round thee vigil keep.
Good-night, my love, good-night, good-night.
Sleep well, my love, on night's dark breast,
And ease thy soul with slumber bright;
Be joy but thine and I am blest.
Good-night, my love, good-night, good-night.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Mourning Band
The descent starts
with a dance, of tears and fire.
A culture of lids
lowers the salt, the silver,
the gems.
Antithesis to cremate
a golden ascent.
The night long vigil had a
naked puff.
It will roll now in stasis.
The ash will take over the tongue
for a big lie. Faith healers stand
in a row. The empty hands
were getting a burial.
The toeless path will ride the
wheels now. Beyond the blue sky
there is no death.
poem by Satish Verma
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Half-curved moon
Half-curved moon
Half-curved moon was brightening in the sky.
It was night.
Cool air was blowing.
The stars were twinkling in the sky.
Half-hearted soldier was on the border.
Moreover, was keeping tight vigil on the enemy.
His beloved wife was in the village suffering the same half-heartedness.
The world was sleeping.
However, moon, soldier and his beloved wife were awakening in the night.
The chain of duties was bounding them.
The Moon bound by the order of the nature.
Soldier is a patriotic man.
Beloved wife of the soldier was the wife of a great soldier.
poem by Vijay Gupta
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The Dying Soldier
Yes! raise me on your arm, Dick Dale,
My comrade old and true.
And let me of the glad earth take
One last and lingering view.
When yet a few brief moments more
Of this flittering hour have fled,
You’ll shed an old friend's tear, Dick Dale,
Above your comrade's head.
We fought together, side by side,
In many a bloody fray,
From Malvern Hill's dark hour of strife,
To fierce Antietam's day.
And when again the 'long roll' calls,
For battle to prepare,
You will not fail the flag, Dick Dale,
But I shall not be there.
You will not soon forget me, Dick!
I know it by that sigh;
I know it by those tears that shine
In your half averted eye.
But my dear old comrade's heart will swell,
I know with honest pride,
When he thinks that for the grand old flag,
His old companion died.
Cut off this light brown lock, Dick Dale,
For the girl that waits at home.
Yes! Hoping waits her soldier love,
Who never more can come.
'Twill soothe perhaps her bleeding heart
To know that watched by you,
The boy she loved, at least has died,
With one who loved him too.
You'll visit all the quaint old nooks
We sought when we were boys,
And thoughts of me will come, Dick Dale,
With thoughts of childhood's joys;
And when you reach the old playground
Where once you used to play,
You’ll not forget your friend, Dick Dale,
In his lone grave far away.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Charm, The
In darkness the loud sea makes moan;
And earth is shaken, and all evils creep
About her ways.
Oh, now to know you sleep!
Out of the whirling blinding moil, alone,
Out of the slow grim fight,
One thought to wing -- to you, asleep,
In some cool room that's open to the night
Lying half-forward, breathing quietly,
One white hand on the white
Unrumpled sheet, and the ever-moving hair
Quiet and still at length! . . .
Your magic and your beauty and your strength,
Like hills at noon or sunlight on a tree,
Sleeping prevail in earth and air.
In the sweet gloom above the brown and white
Night benedictions hover; and the winds of night
Move gently round the room, and watch you there.
And through the dreadful hours
The trees and waters and the hills have kept
The sacred vigil while you slept,
And lay a way of dew and flowers
Where your feet, your morning feet, shall tread.
And still the darkness ebbs about your bed.
Quiet, and strange, and loving-kind, you sleep.
And holy joy about the earth is shed;
And holiness upon the deep.
poem by Rupert Brooke
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The Charm
In darkness the loud sea makes moan;
And earth is shaken, and all evils creep
About her ways.
Oh, now to know you sleep!
Out of the whirling blinding moil, alone,
Out of the slow grim fight,
One thought to wing - to you, asleep,
In some cool room that's open to the night
Lying half-forward, breathing quietly,
One white hand on the white
Unrumpled sheet, and the ever-moving hair
Quiet and still at length! . . .
Your magic and your beauty and your strength,
Like hills at noon or sunlight on a tree,
Sleeping prevail in earth and air.
In the sweet gloom above the brown and white
Night benedictions hover; and the winds of night
Move gently round the room, and watch you there.
And through the dreadful hours
The trees and waters and the hills have kept
The sacred vigil while you slept,
And lay a way of dew and flowers
Where your feet, your morning feet, shall tread.
And still the darkness ebbs about your bed.
Quiet, and strange, and loving-kind, you sleep.
And holy joy about the earth is shed;
And holiness upon the deep.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1909)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Black Beauty
Behold the black panther's beauty!
That striking set of eyes!
Yet survival sets its duty -
To hunt until he dies...
So each night, he's slowly bidden
To stalk his prey once more...
Within that darkness he's hidden,
In silence, to be sure...
He treads the ground with gentle paws,
He sniffs the breeze for clues,
He hides his teeth, he hides his claws,
This untamed wild recluse...
The night is young, his turn will come...
His blood runs cold each time...
His heart is beating like a drum...
Yet onward he must climb.
The hours pass, yet he must wait...
The vigil must be kept.
No rest, he mustn't hesitate...
He mustn't be inept!
Was that a rustling dead ahead?
Was that his answered prayer?
Was that a creature that just fled?
All he could do was stare!
Here was the beauty and the beast...
The devil in disguise...
With hunger raging, unappeased...
Till something near him dies...
I pity him, his victims, too...
Is there no other way?
Each night they do what they must do,
The hunter and the prey...
poem by Denis Martindale
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To look back is to relax one's vigil.
quote by Bette Davis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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starless sky
a candlelight vigil
at Graceland
haiku by Chenou Liu
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