Then to the third--a face nor child nor old, very calm, as of beautiful yellow-white ivory: Young man, I think I know you--I think this face of yours is the face of the Christ Himself; Dead and divine and brother of all, and here again He lies. _A GRAVE._ 1. As toilsome I wandered Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves kicked by my feet--for 'twas autumn-- I marked 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 scrawled and nailed on the tree by the grave, _Bold, cautious, true, and my loving comrade_. 2. Long, long I muse,--then on my way go wandering, Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of life. 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_. _THE DRESSER._ 1. An old man bending, I come among new faces, Years, looking backward, resuming, in answer to children, "Come tell us, old man," (as from young men and maidens that love me, Years hence) "of these scenes, of these furious passions, these chances, Of unsurpassed heroes--(was one side so brave? the other was equally brave) Now be witness again--paint the mightiest armies of earth; Of those armies, so rapid, so wondrous, what saw you to tell us? What stays with you latest and deepest? of curious panics, Of hard-fought engagements, or sieges tremendous, what deepest remains?" 2. O maidens and young men I love, and that love me, What you ask of my days, those the strangest and sudden your talking recalls, Soldier alert I arrive, after a long march, covered with sweat and dust; In the nick of time I come, plunge in the fight, loudly shout in the rush of successful charge; Enter the captured works,...yet lo! like a swift-running river, they fade, Pass, and are gone; they fade--I dwell not on soldiers' perils or soldiers' joys; (Both I remember well--many the hardships, few the joys, yet I was content.)