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lirik lagu tim graham - walt whitman - pensive on her dead gazing

pensive on her dead gazing i heard the mother of all
desperate on the torn bodies, on the forms covering the battlefields gazing
(as the last gun ceased, but the scent of the powder~smoke linger’d,)
as she call’d to her earth with mournful voice while she stalk’d
absorb them well o my earth, she cried, i charge you lose not my sons, lose not an atom
and you streams absorb them well, taking their dear blood
and you local spots, and you airs that swim above lightly impalpable
and all you essences of soil and growth, and you my rivers’ depths
and you mountain sides, and the woods where my dear children’s blood trickling redden’d
and you trees down in your roots to bequeath to all future trees
my dead absorb or south or north—my young men’s bodies absorb, and their precious precious blood
which holding in trust for me faithfully back again give me many a year hence
in unseen essence and odor of surface and grass, centuries hence
in blowing airs from the fields back again give me my darlings, give my immortal heroes
exhale me them centuries hence, breathe me their breath, let not an atom be lost
o years and graves! o air and soil! o my dead, an aroma sweet!
exhale them perennial sweet death, years, centuries hence

- lirik lagu tim graham

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