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IN CLOUDS DESCENDING, IN MIDNIGHT SLEEP.

1

IN clouds descending, in midnight sleep, of many a face of
anguish,
Of the look at first of the mortally wounded—of that inde-
scribable look;
Of the dead on their backs, with arms extended wide,
   I dream, I dream, I dream.


2

Of scenes of nature, the fields and the mountains;
Of the skies, so beauteous after the storm—and at night the
moon so unearthly bright,
Shining sweetly, shining down, where we dig the trenches
and gather the heaps,
   I dream, I dream, I dream.


3

Long have they pass'd, long lapsed—faces and trenches and
fields;
Long through the carnage I moved with a callous compos-
ure—or away from the fallen,
Onward I sped at the time—But now of their forms at night,
   I dream, I dream, I dream.


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