| A Sight in camp in the day-break grey and dim, As from my tent I emerge so early, sleepless, As slow I walk in the cool fresh air, the path near by the hospital tent, Three forms I see on stretchers lying, brought out there, untended lying, Over each the blanket spread, ample brownish woollen blanket, Grey and heavy blanket, folding, covering all. | Rising from a night of no sleep to a dismal gray dawn our unnamed narrator walks to the hospital tent and sees three dead bodies. Are these men he knows? Are they his friends? Who are these men? Are they Union or Confederate? Does it matter? |
| Curious, I halt, and silent stand; Then with light fingers I from the face of the nearest, the first, just lift the blanket: Who are you, elderly man so gaunt and grim, with well-grey’d hair, and flesh all sunken about the eyes? Who are you, my dear comrade? | The first is an old man. Who is he? Does he represent the past? Could he be the narrator’s father or grandfather? |
| Then to the second I step– And who are you, my child and darling? Who are you, sweet boy, with cheeks yet blooming? | Then there is a child, a young boy gone before his prime. Is this boy the future? Is this boy the old man’s son? Is he the brother of our narrator? |
| Then to the third– a face nor child, nor old, very calm, as of beautiful yellow-white ivory; Young man, I think I know you–I think this face of yours is the face of the Christ himself; Dead and divine, and brother of all, and here again he lies. | A man with a wooden-ivory complexion like that of a cross. Is this Christ? Has the war caused God to abandon man? Or has christ come again in order to take on the sins of the world one more time? |
