As Toilsome I Wander'd Virginia's Woods

As toilsome I wander’d Vrignia’s woods, To the music of rustling leaves kick’d by me feet, (for ‘twas autumn,) I mark’d at the food of a tree the grave of a solder; 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 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 soldiers’s grave, comes the Inscription rude in Virginia’s woods, Bold, cautious, true and my loving comrade Walt Whitman