As I lay with my head in your lap, Camerado,The confession I made I resume—what I said to you and the open air I resume:I know I am restless, and make others so;I know my words are weapons, full of danger, full of death;(Indeed I am myself the real soldier:It is not he, there, with his bayonet, and not the red- striped artilleryman;)For I confront peace, security, and all the settled laws, to unsettle them;I am more resolute because all have denied me, than I could ever have been had all accepted me;I heed not, and have never heeded, either experience, cautions, majorities, nor ridicule;And the threat of what is call'd hell is little or nothing to me;And the lure of what is call'd heaven is little or nothing to me;…Dear camerado! I confess I have urged you onward with me, and still urge you, without the least idea what is our destination,Or whether we shall be victorious, or utterly quell'd and defeated.