How Solemn as One by One

 HOW solemn, as one by one, 
As the ranks returning, all worn and sweaty—as the men file by where I stand; 
As the faces, the masks appear—as I glance at the faces, studying the masks; 
(As I glance upward out of this page, studying you, dear friend, whoever you are;) 
How solemn the thought of my whispering soul, to each in the ranks, and to you;
I see behind each mask, that wonder, a kindred soul; 
O the bullet could never kill what you really are, dear friend, 
Nor the bayonet stab what you really are: 
... The soul! yourself I see, great as any, good as the best, 
Waiting, secure and content, which the bullet could never kill,
Nor the bayonet stab, O friend!

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