[
  {
    "title": "Pensive on Her Dead Gazing, I Heard the Mother of All.",
    "author": "Walt Whitman",
    "lines": [
      "PENSIVE, on her dead gazing, I heard the Mother of All,",
      "Desperate, on the torn bodies, on the forms covering the battle-fields gazing;",
      "(As the last gun ceased—but the scent of the powder-smoke linger’d;)",
      "As she call’d to her earth with mournful voice while she stalk’d:",
      "Absorb them well, O my earth, she cried—I charge you, lose not my sons! lose not an",
      "    atom;",
      "And you streams, absorb them well, taking their dear blood;",
      "And you local spots, and you airs that swim above lightly,",
      "And all you essences of soil and growth—and you, my rivers’ depths;",
      "And you, mountain sides—and the woods where my dear children’s blood, trickling,",
      "  redden’d;",
      "And you trees, down in your roots, to bequeath to all future trees,",
      "My dead absorb—my young men’s beautiful bodies absorb—and their precious,",
      "  precious, precious blood;",
      "Which holding in trust for me, faithfully back again give me, many a year hence,",
      "In unseen essence and odor of surface and grass, centuries hence;",
      "In blowing airs from the fields, back again give me my darlings—give my immortal",
      "    heroes;",
      "Exhale me them centuries hence—breathe me their breath—let not an atom be lost;",
      "O years and graves! O air and soil! O my dead, an aroma sweet!",
      "Exhale them perennial, sweet death, years, centuries hence."
    ],
    "linecount": "21"
  }
]