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