HOW solemn, as one by one, <br /> As the ranks returning, all worn and sweaty--as the men file by where <br /> I stand; <br /> As the faces, the masks appear--as I glance at the faces, studying <br /> the masks; <br /> (As I glance upward out of this page, studying you, dear friend, <br /> whoever you are;) <br /> How solemn the thought of my whispering soul, to each in the ranks, <br /> and to you; <br /> I see behind each mask, that wonder, a kindred soul; <br /> O the bullet could never kill what you really are, dear friend, <br /> Nor the bayonet stab what you really are: <br /> ... The soul! yourself I see, great as any, good as the best, <br /> Waiting, secure and content, which the bullet could never kill, <br /> Nor the bayonet stab, O friend! 10<br /><br />Walt Whitman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/how-solemn-as-one-by-one/
