This is the female form.
–Whitman.
Poking around the secessionist corpses
After a sharp engagement one of the boys
Whistled and said, ‘What have we here?’
A fine-looking dead rebel lass it was whose
Dishevelment teased out such crudity
In the boys that our captain, a puffed-up
College man, said, ‘This coarse ridicule
‘Of the female form and, what’s more,
‘Indifference to the tragedy of the girl’s
‘Death I hope is consequence of the war
‘And not some deep-seated inherent flaw
‘In your natures like half-wittedness or
‘Whatever shamefully cruel propensity.
‘Inter her with full ceremonial rites!’