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Walt Whitman - As Toilsome I Wander`d
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AS TOILSOME I wander`d Virginia`s woods,
To the music of rustling leaves, kick`d by my feet, (for `twas
         autumn,)
I mark`d at the foot of a tree the grave of a soldier,
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 soldier`s grave—comes the inscription
         rude in Virginia`s woods,
Bold, cautious, true, and my loving comrade.
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