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As Toilsome I Wander'd Virginia's Woods


1 AS TOILSOME I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves, kick'd by my feet, (for  
 'twas autumn,)
I mark'd at the foot of a tree the grave of a soldier; Mortally wounded he, and buried on the retreat, (easily  
 all could I understand;)
The halt of a mid-day hour, when up! no time to lose  
 —yet this sign left,
On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, Bold, cautious, true, and my loving comrade.
2Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering; Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of  
Yet at times through changeful season and scene, abrupt,  
 alone, or in the crowded street,
Comes before me the unknown soldier's grave—comes  
 the inscription rude in Virginia's woods,
Bold, cautious, true, and my loving comrade.
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