Walt Whitman
New York / United States
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A March In The Ranks, Hard-Prest

Rating: 3.0

A MARCH in the ranks hard-prest, and the road unknown;
A route through a heavy wood, with muffled steps in the darkness;
Our army foil'd with loss severe, and the sullen remnant retreating;
Till after midnight glimmer upon us, the lights of a dim-lighted
building;
We come to an open space in the woods, and halt by the dim-lighted
building;
'Tis a large old church at the crossing roads--'tis now an impromptu
hospital;
--Entering but for a minute, I see a sight beyond all the pictures
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COMMENTS
Dr Antony Theodore 07 July 2019
The great Walt Whitman.. wonderful poem. tony
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rakhiswati 07 July 2019
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Ramesh T A 07 July 2019
Marching of soldiers in the dark wood, church turned hospital where soldiers are treated by doctor and attendants, some just dying with bloodshed and pain show war picture very well by the able hand of Poet Walt Whitman! thanks for sharing this poem here!
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Ratnakar Mandlik 07 July 2019
A great war poem narrating marching of a formation of army in dark through thick woods and the make shift hospital in a church where the injured and dying soldiers were being treated/ kept. A touching poem throwing light on devastation caused by war.
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Glen Kappy 07 July 2019
i wasn't familiar with this whitman poem before. with the ending as in the beginning—marching in the dark not knowing where they're going— and enough detail, he well conveys the senselessness of war. -gk
1 0 Reply
Kumarmani Mahakul 07 July 2019
So touching expressed with nice penmanship. Beautiful poem.
1 0 Reply
Adeeb Alfateh 07 July 2019
Some on the bare ground, some on planks or stretchers, some in the death-spasm sweating; An occasional scream or cry, the doctor's shouted orders or calls; The glisten of the little steel instruments catching the glint of the torches; These I resume as I chant- I see again the forms, I smell the odor; 20 great write great 10++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
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Aniruddha Pathak 07 July 2019
The poem brings to bear the reality of war, not on the battle front, but even in a make-shift hospital in a church. It ends with the tired soldier, tired both in body and mind, succumbs to sleep, the only way to escape the realities of the war. Good poem.
2 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 07 July 2019
Till after midnight! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
1 1 Reply
Jane Campion 07 July 2019
A truly imaginative poem with great images.
1 0 Reply

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