 Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field One Night, by Walt Whitman, read for Libbybox.org, by Algypug. Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field One Night, when you, my son, and my comrade, dropped at my side that day. One look I but gave, which your dear eyes return with a look I shall never forget. On touch of your hand to mine, O boy, reached up as you lay on the ground. Then onward I sped in the battle, the even contested battle, till late in the night. Relieved to the place at last again, I made my way. Found you in death, so cold, dear comrade, found your body, son of responding kisses, you were again on earth responding. Beared your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blue the moderate night wind. Long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me the battlefield spreading. Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in a fragrant silent night. But not a tear fell, not even a long drawn sigh, long, long I gazed. Then on the earth, partially reclining, sat by your side, leaning my chin in my hands. Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade. Not a tear, not a word. Full of silence, love and death. Vigil for you, my son and my soldier. As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones, upward stall. Vigil final for you, brave boy. I could not save you, swift was your death. I faithfully loved you and cared for you, living. I think we shall surely meet again. Vigil, at latest lingering of the night, indeed, just as the dawn appeared. My comrade I wrapped in his blanket, enveloped well his form, folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully overhead and carefully under feet. And there and then, and bathed by the rising sun, my son, in his grave, in his rude dug grave, I deposited, ending my vigil strange with that. Vigil of night and battlefield dim. Vigil for boy of responding kisses. Never again on earth responding. Vigil for comrade swiftly slain. Vigil I never forget, how, as day brightened, I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket. Then buried him where he fell. End of poem This recording is in a public domain. Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field One Night by Walt Whitman Read for LibriVox.org by Anita Sloma Martinez on June 17, 2019. Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field One Night when you, my son and my comrade, dropped at my side that day. One look I but gave which your dear eyes returned with the look I shall never forget. One touch of your hand to mine, O boy, reached up as you lay on the ground. Then onward I sped in the battle, the even contested battle. Till late in the night relieved to the place at last again I made my way. Found you in death so cold, dear comrade. Found your body, son, of responding kisses, never again on earth responding. Bared your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blew the moderate night wind. Long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me the battlefield spreading. Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night, but not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed. Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side, leaning my chin in my hands. Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade. Not a tear, not a word. Vigil of silence, love and death. Vigil for you my son and my soldier, as onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole. Vigil final for you, bright boy. I could not save you, swift was your death. I faithfully loved you and cared for you, living. I think we shall surely meet again. Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed, just as the dawn appeared, my comrade I wrapped in his blanket, enveloped well his form, folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully overhead and carefully under feet. And there and then, and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude dug grave I deposited. Ending my vigil strange with that, vigil of night and battlefield dim, vigil for boy of responding kisses. Never again on earth responding, vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget, how his day brightened. I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket, and buried him where he fell. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Vigil strange I kept on the field one night, by Walt Whitman. Read for LibriVox.org by Bruce Kachok. Vigil strange I kept on the field one night, when you, my son and my comrade, dropped at my side that day. Then look I but gave which your dear eyes returned, with a look I shall never forget. One touch of your hand to mine, O boy, reached up as you lay on the ground. Then onward I sped in the battle, the even contested battle, till late in the night relieved to the place at last again I made my way. And you, in death so cold, dear comrade, found your body, son of responding kisses. Never again on earth responding, buried your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blew the moderate night wind. Among there and then, in Vigil I stood, dimly around me the battlefield spreading, Vigil wondrous and Vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night. But not a tear fell, not even a long drawn sigh. Long, long I gazed. Then on the earth, partially reclining, sat by your side, leaning my chin in my hands. Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade, not a tear, not a word. Vigil of silence, love and death, Vigil for you, my son and my soldier, as onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole, Vigil final for you brave boy. I could not save you, swift was your death, I faithfully loved you and cared for you living, I think we shall surely meet again, till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the dawn appeared, my comrade I wrapped in his blanket, enveloped well his form, folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully overhead and carefully under feet. And there and then, and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude dog grave, I deposited, ending my Vigil strange with that, Vigil of night and battlefield dim, Vigil for boy of responding kisses, never again on earth responding, Vigil for comrade swiftly slain, Vigil I never forget. How, as day brightened, I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket and buried him where he fell. And a poem, this recording is in the public domain. Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field One Night by Walt Whitman Read for Libervox.org by Chris Pyle Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field One Night, when you, my son and my comrade, dropped at my side that day. One look I but gave which your dear eyes returned with a look I shall never forget. One touch of your hand to mine, O boy, reached up, as you lay on the ground. Then onward I sped in the battle, the even contested battle, till late in the night relieved to the place at last again I made my way. As you in death so cold, dear comrade, found your body, son of responding kisses, never again on earth responding. Baird your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blue the moderate night wind, long there and then in vigil I stood dimly around me the battlefield spreading. Vigil wonderous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night. But not a tear fell, nor even a long drawn sigh. Long long I gazed, then on earth partially reclining, set by your side, leaning my chin in my hands. Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade, not a tear, not a word. Vigil of silence, love and death. Vigil for you, my son and my soldier. As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole. Vigil final for you, brave boy. I could not save you, swift was your death. I faithfully loved you and cared for your living. I think we shall surely meet again. Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the dawn appeared, my comrade I wrapped in his blanket, enveloped well his form, folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully overhead and carefully under feet, and there and then and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude dug grave I deposited. Ending my vigil strange with that, vigil of night and battlefield dim, vigil for boy of responding kisses, never again on earth responding, vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget, how as day brightened I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket, and buried him where he fell. Vigil strange I kept on the field one night, when you, my son and my comrade, dropped at my side that day, one look I but gave when your dear eyes returned with a look I shall never forget. One touch of your hand to mine, O boy, reached up as you lay on the ground. Then onward I sped in the battle, the even contested battle, till late in the night relieved to the place at last again I made my way. Found you in death so cold, dear comrade, found your body, son of responding kisses, never again on earth responding. Found your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blue the moderate night wind, long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me the battlefield spreading. Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night, but not a tear fell, not even a long drawn sigh, long, long I gazed. Then on the earth, partially reclining, sat by your side, leaning my chin in my hands, passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade, not a tear, not a word. Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you, my son and my soldier, as onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole. Vigil final for you, brave boy. I could not save you, swift was your death, I faithfully loved you and cared for your living, I think we shall surely meet again. Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed, just as the dawn appeared, my comrade I wrapped in his blanket, enveloped well his form, folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully over head and carefully under feet, and there and then, and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude dug grave I deposited. Ending my strange vigil with that, vigil of night and battlefield dim, vigil for boy of responding kisses, never again on earth responding, vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget, how as day brightened, I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket, and buried him where he fell. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Vigil strange I kept on the field one night, by Walt Whitman, read for LibriVox.org by Newgate Novelist. Vigil strange I kept on the field one night. In you, my son and my comrade, dropped at my side that day, one look I but gave, which your dear eyes returned, with a look I shall never forget. One touch of your hand to mine, oh boy, reached up as you lay on the ground. Then onward I sped in the battle, the even contested battle, until late in the night, relieved to the place at last again, I made my way, found you in death so cold, dear comrade, found your body, son of responding kisses, never again on earth responding. Beard your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blew the moderate night wind, long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me the battlefield spreading, vigil wondrous and vigil sweet, there in the fragrant silent night, but not a tear fell, not even a long drawn sigh, long, long I gazed. Then on the earth partially reclining, sat by your side, leaning my chin in my hands, passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade, not a tear, not a word, vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you, my son and my soldier, as onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole, vigil final for you brave boy, I could not save you, swift was your death, I faithfully loved you and cared for you living, I think we shall surely meet again, till that latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the dawn appeared, my comrade I wrapped in his blanket, enveloped well his form, folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully, overhead and carefully under feet, and there and then and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude dug grave I deposited, ending, my strange vigil with that, vigil of night and battlefield dim, vigil for boy of responding kisses, never again on earth responding, vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget, how as day brightened I rose from the chill ground, unfolded my soldier well in his blanket, and buried him where he fell. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. The Chill Strange I Kept On The Field One Night by Walt Whitman. Read for LibraVox.org by Francesca Remig. 21st of June 2019, Berlin, Germany. Vigil Strange I Kept On The Field One Night when you, my son and comrade, dropped at my side that day, one look I but gave which your dear eyes returned with a look I shall never forget, one touch of your hand to mine, oh boy, reached up as you lay on the ground, then onward I sped in the battle, the even contested battle, till late in the night relieved to the place at last again I made my way. Found you in death, so cold, dear comrade, found your body, son of responding kisses, never again on earth responding. Baird your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blue the moderate night wind, long there and then in Vigil I stood, dimly around me the battlefield spreading. Vigil wondrous and Vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night, but not a tear fell, not even a long drawn sigh, long, long I gazed. Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your sigh, leaning my chin in my hands, passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade, not a tear, not a word. Vigil of silence, love and death, Vigil for you, my son and my soldier, as onward silently stares aloft, eastward new ones upward stole. Vigil final for you, brave boy, I could not save you. Swift was your death. I faithfully loved you and cared for you living. I think we shall surely meet again. Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the dawn appeared, my comrade I wrapped in his blanket, enveloped well his form, folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully overhead and carefully under feet, and there and then and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude dug grave I deposited, ending my vigil strange with that. Vigil of night and battlefield dim, Vigil for boy of responding kisses, never again on earth responding. Vigil for comrade swiftly slain. Vigil I never forget, how as day brightened, I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket, and buried him where he fell. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Vigil strange I kept on the field one night by Walt Whitman, read for Liborvox.org by Greg Giordano, Newport Ritchie, Florida. Vigil strange I kept on the field one night, when you my son and my comrade dropped at my side that day. One look I but gave, which your dear eyes returned with a look I shall never forget. One touch of your hand to mine, oh boy, reached up as you lay on the ground. Then onward I sped in the battle, the even contested battle, till late in the night relieved to the place at last again I made my way. Found you in death so cold, dear comrade, found your body sun of responding kisses, never again on earth responding. Baird your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blew the moderate night wind. Long there and then Vigil I stood, dimly around me, the battlefield spreading. Vigil wondrous and Vigil sweet, there, in the fragrant, silent night. But not a tear fell, uneven a long drawn sigh. Long, long I gazed. Then on the earth partially reclining, sat by your side, leaning my chin in my hands. Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade, not a tear, not a word. Vigil of silence, love and death. Vigil for you my son and my soldier. As onwards silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole. Vigil final for you brave boy. I could not save you, swift was your death. I faithfully loved you and cared for you living. I think we shall surely meet again. Till at last lingering of the night. Indeed, just as the dawn appeared. My comrade I wrapped in his blanket, enveloped well his form, folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully overhead and carefully under feet. And there and then and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude dug grave I deposited. Ending my Vigil strange with that. Vigil of night and battlefield dim. Vigil for boy of responding kisses. Never again on earth responding. Vigil for comrade, swiftly slain. Vigil I never forget, how his day brightened. I rose from the chilled ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket, and buried him where he fell. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Vigil strange I kept on the field one night, by Walt Whitman. Read for LibriVox.org by Graham Scott, Cheltenham, England. Vigil strange I kept on the field one night. When you, my son, and my comrade, dropped at my side that day, one look I but gave which your dear eyes returned with a look I shall never forget. One touch of your hand to mine, oh boy, reached up as you lay on the ground. Then onward I sped in the battle, the even contested battle, till late in the night relieved to the place at last again I made my way. Found you in death so cold, dear comrade. Found your body, son, of responding kisses. Never again on earth responding. Baird your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blue the moderate night wind. Long there and then in Vigil I stood dimly around me the battlefield spreading. Vigil wondrous and Vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night. But not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh. Long, long I gazed. Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side, leaning my chin in my hands, passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade. Not a tear, not a word. Vigil of silence, love and death. Vigil for you, my son and my soldier. As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole. Vigil final for you, brave boy. I could not save you, swift was your death. I faithfully loved you and cared for you living. I think we shall surely meet again. Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the dawn appeared, my comrade I wrapped in his blanket, enveloped well his form, folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully overhead and carefully under feet. And there and then, and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude dug grave I deposited. Ending my vigil strange with that. Vigil of night and battlefield dim. Vigil for boy of responding kisses. Never again on earth responding. Vigil for comrade swiftly slain. Vigil I never forget, how as day brightened I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket and buried him where he fell. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Vigil strange I kept on the field one night by Walt Whitman, read for LibriVox.org by Kevin S. Vigil strange I kept on the field one night when you my son and my comrade dropped at my side that day. One look I but gave which your dear eyes returned with a look I shall never forget. One touch of your hand to mine, oh boy, reached up as you lay on the ground, then onward I sped in the battle, the even contested battle. Till late in the night relieved to the place at last, again I made my way, found you in death so cold, dear comrade. Found your body, son of responding kisses. Never again on earth responding. Baird your face in the starlight. Curious the scene, cool blew the moderate night wind. Long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me the battlefield spreading. Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night, but not a tear fell, not even a long drone sigh. Long long I gazed, then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side leaning my chin in my hands. Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearest comrade, not a tear, not a word. Vigil of silence, love and death. Vigil for you my son and my soldier, as onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole. Vigil final for you brave boy. I could not save you, swift was your death. I faithfully loved you and cared for your living. I think we shall surely meet again. Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the dawn appeared, my comrade I wrapped in his blanket, enveloped well his form, folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully overhead and carefully under feet, and there and then, embathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude dug grave, I deposited. Ending my vigil strange with that. Vigil of night in battlefield dim. Vigil for boy of responding kisses, never again on earth responding. Vigil for comrade swiftly slain. Vigil I never forget, how his day brightened. I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket, and buried him where he fell. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Vigil strange I kept on the field one night, by Walt Whitman, read for LibriVox.org by Phil Shempf. Vigil strange I kept on the field one night, when you, my son, and my comrade, dropped at my side that day. One look I but gave, which your dear eyes returned, with a look I shall never forget. One touch of your hand to mine, oh boy, reached up as you lay on the ground. Then onward I sped in the battle, the ever contested battle, till late in the night, relieved to the place, at last again I made my way. Found you in death, so cold, dear comrade. Found your body, son of responding kisses, never again on earth responding. Bared your face in the starlight. Curious the scene, cool blue the moderate night wind. Long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me the battlefield spreading. Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet, there in the fragrant silent night. But not a tear fell, not even a long drawn sigh. Long, long I gazed. Then on the earth, partially reclining, sat by your side, leaning my chin in my hands. Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours, with you, dearest comrade. Not a tear, not a word. Vigil of silence, love and death. Vigil for you, my son and my soldier. As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole. Vigil final for you brave boy. I could not save you, swift was your death. I faithfully loved you and cared for you living. I think we shall surely meet again. Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the dawn appeared. My comrade I wrapped in his blanket, enveloped well his form, folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully overhead and carefully under feet. And there and then, and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude dug grave I deposited. Ending my vigil strange with that. Vigil of night and battlefield dim. Vigil for boy of responding kisses, never again on earth responding. Vigil for comrade swiftly slain. Vigil I never forget, how as day brightened I rose from the chill ground, and folded my soldier well in his blanket, and buried him where he fell. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Dropped at my side that day. One look I but gave, which your dear eyes returned with a look I shall never forget. One touch of your hand to mine, oh boy, reached up as you lay on the ground. Then onward I sped in the battle, the even contested battle, till late in the night, relieved the place at last, again I made my way. Found you in death, so cold, dear comrade, found your body, sun of responding kisses, never again on earth responding, there to your face in the starlight. Curious the scene, cool blew the moderate night wind. Long there and then, in vigil I stood, dimly around me the battlefield spreading. Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet, there in the fragrant, silent night. But not a tear fell, not even a long drawn sigh, long, long I gazed. Then on the earth, partially reclining, sat by your side, leaning my chin in my hands, passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade, not a tear, not a word. Vigil of silence, love and death. Vigil for you, my son and my soldier, as onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones, upward stole. Vigil final for you, brave boy. I could not save you. Swift was your death. I faithfully loved you and cared for you living. I think we shall surely meet again. Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed, just as the dawn appeared, my comrade, I wrapped in his blanket, enveloped well his form, folded the blanket well, talking it carefully overhead and carefully under feet. And there and then, and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rue, dug grave, I deposited, ending my vigil strange with that. Vigil of night and battlefield dim, vigil for boy of responding kisses, never again on earth responding, vigil for comrade, swiftly slain, vigil, I never forget. How his day brightened, I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket, and buried him where he fell. Field one night, when you, my son, and my comrade, dropped at my side that day. One look I but gave, which your dear eyes returned, with a look I shall never forget. One touch of your hand to mine, oh boy, reached up as you lay on the ground. Then onward I sped in the battle, that even contested battle, till late in the night, relieved to the place at last again I made my way. Found you in death so cold, dear comrade. Found your body, son, of responding kisses, never again on earth responding. Buried your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blue the moderate night wind. Long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me, the battlefield spreading. Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night. But not a tear fell, not even a long drawn sigh. Long, long I gazed. Then on the earth, partially reclining, sat by your side, leaning my chin in my hands. Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade. Not a tear, not a word. Vigil of silence, love and death. Vigil for you my son and my soldier. As onward silently star as a loft, eastward new one's upward stall. Vigil final for you brave boy. I could not save you. Swift was your death. I faithfully loved you and cared for you living. I think we shall surely meet again. Till that latest lingering of the night. And he just as the dawn appeared. My comrade I wrapped in his blanket, enveloped well his form, folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully overhead and carefully under feet. And there and then, and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude dug grave I deposited. Ending my vigil strange with that. Vigil of night and battlefield dim. Vigil for boy of responding kisses, never again on earth responding. Vigil for comrade swiftly slain. Vigil I never forget, how his day brightened. I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket, and buried him where he fell. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.