...I onward go, I stop,
With hinged knees and steady hand to dress wounds,
I am firm with each one, the pangs are sharp yet unavoidable,
One turns to me with his appealing eyes - poor boy! I never knew you,
Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you.
...Thus in silence in dreams' projections,
Returning, resuming, I thread my way through the hospitals;
The hurt and wounded I pacify with soothing hand,
I sit by the restless all dark night - some are so young;
Some suffer so much - I recall the experience sweet and sad...
Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass