by the bivouac's fitful flame - bart wolffe lyrics
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by the bivouac’s fitful flame
a procession winding around me, solemn and sweet and slow;—but first i note
the tents of the sleeping army, the fields’ and woods’ dim outline
the darkness, lit spots of kindled fire—the silence;
like a phantom far or near an occasional figure moving;
the shrubs and trees, (as i left my eyes they seem to be stealthily watching me;)
while wind in procession thoughts, o tender and wond’rous thoughts
of life and death—of home and the past and loved, and of those that are far away;
a solemn and slow procеssion there as i sit on the ground
by thе bivouac’s fitful flame
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