by the bivouac's fitful flame - howard hanson 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 by spots of kindled fire, the silence
like a phantom far or near an occasional figure moving
the shrubs and trees, (as i lift my eyes they seem to be stealthily watching me,)
while wind in procession thoughts, o tender and wondrous thoughts
of life and death, of home and the past and loved, and of those that are far away;
a solemn and slow procession there as i sit on the ground
by the bivouac’s fitful flame
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