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Lyric Poem · War & Remembrance

Ashes of Soldiers

by Walt Whitman

1ASHES of soldiers!

2As I muse, retrospective, murmuring a chant in thought,

3Lo! the war resumes—again to my sense your shapes,

4And again the advance of armies.

5Noiseless as mists and vapors,

6From their graves in the trenches ascending,

7From the cemeteries all through Virginia and Tennessee,

8From every point of the compass, out of the countless unnamed graves,

9In wafted clouds, in myraids large, or squads of twos or threes, or single ones, they

10 come,

11And silently gather round me.

12Now sound no note, O trumpeters!

13Not at the head of my cavalry, parading on spirited horses,

14With sabres drawn and glist’ning, and carbines by their thighs—(ah, my brave

15 horsemen!

16My handsome, tan-faced horsemen! what life, what joy and pride,

17With all the perils, were yours!)

18Nor you drummers—neither at reveille, at dawn,

19Nor the long roll alarming the camp—nor even the muffled beat for a burial;

20Nothing from you, this time, O drummers, bearing my warlike drums.

21But aside from these, and the marts of wealth, and the crowded promenade,

22Admitting around me comrades close, unseen by the rest, and voiceless,

23The slain elate and alive again—the dust and debris alive,

24I chant this chant of my silent soul, in the name of all dead soldiers.

25Faces so pale, with wondrous eyes, very dear, gather closer yet;

26Draw close, but speak not.

27Phantoms of countless lost!

28Invisible to the rest, henceforth become my companions!

29Follow me ever! desert me not, while I live.

30Sweet are the blooming cheeks of the living! sweet are the musical voices sounding!

31But sweet, ah sweet, are the dead, with their silent eyes.

32Dearest comrades! all is over and long gone;

33But love is not over—and what love, O comrades!

34Perfume from battle-fields rising—up from foetor arising.

35Perfume therefore my chant, O love! immortal Love!

36Give me to bathe the memories of all dead soldiers,

37Shroud them, embalm them, cover them all over with tender pride!

38Perfume all! make all wholesome!

39Make these ashes to nourish and blossom,

40O love! O chant! solve all, fructify all with the last chemistry.

41Give me exhaustless—make me a fountain,

42That I exhale love from me wherever I go, like a moist perennial dew,

43For the ashes of all dead soldiers.

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Quick facts

Poem
Ashes of Soldiers
Poet
Walt Whitman
Length
43 lines
Form
Lyric Poem
Themes
War & Remembrance, Love, Death & Loss

Craft notes

How this poem works

Measured from the text on this page, not copied from a summary. Counts are approximate: syllables and rhymes come from the CMU Pronouncing Dictionary, which models General American English, so dialect, older pronunciation, and performance can all change what you hear.

Shape
43 lines · 12 stanzas of 2–7 lines
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Text, source & rights

A traceable edition

Full-text display is based on the committed source record and a United States term-expiry review.

Author record
Walt Whitman1819–1892
Source record
PoetryDBAshes of Soldiers by walt-whitman, PoetryDB transcription
Display decision
Full text · United States · reviewed 2026-07-18
Publication record
Not recorded in the imported source
Text fingerprint
SHA-256 2f83f49613357b8e
Editorial handling
Whitespace and stanza breaks normalized for web display; no material wording change recorded.
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