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Post by Petra on Dec 24, 2021 0:56:20 GMT -5
Not a novel but recently came across a poem by Whitman, it tells of two soldiers in the civil war, one older, one younger, who befriended each other. A battle started and the two joined it, the younger was soon shot and killed. The older man followed the skirmish and when that was over he returned to where the young man fell. He spent the night talking and singing to him. As morning came he he dug a grave and buried him where he fell. When I read this, I was taken by the love and tenderness in the telling. I was stunned and sat for a time thinking. And I wondered what the hell are are we doing? The poem was conquered 150 years ago. And what do I do? The next day I write a poem about a young man dying. Apparently we can't help ourselves. The poem is titled, I think, " a vigil strange".
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Reading
Dec 24, 2022 11:53:31 GMT -5
Post by Cenacle on Dec 24, 2022 11:53:31 GMT -5
Please post it, Petra Wonderful tale you tell of your reading.
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