Cpl. Kabloski said:
O Corporal! my Corporal! our fearful drill is done,
The squad has weather’d every fight, the prize we sought is won,
The GAME is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady hand, the squaddies grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the field my Corporal lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Corporal! my Corporal! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the streets a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Corporal! dear brother!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the field,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Corporal does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My brother does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The squad is dismissed safe and sound, its battle closed and done,
From fearful drill the victors will come in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the field my Corporal lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Here’s to many more Cpl. Argerham.
Here’s to many more, Cpl. Argerham.
Adapted from O Captain! My Captain! By Walt Whitman
