For ever and anon the jaded men,
Clamorous and threat'ning, sought to clamber in;
Whom Paul drove off at point of bayonet,
Wielding his musket with his good right arm.
But when the night was waning to the morn
I saw that he was weary and I made
A place for Paul and begged him to get in.
'No, Captain; no,' he answered,--'I will walk--
I'm making bone and muscle--learning how
To march and fight and march and fight again.'
That silenced me, and we went rumbling on.
Till morning found us safe at Arlington.
"A month off duty and a faithful nurse
Worked wonders and my head was whole again--
Nay--to be candid--cracked a little yet.
My nurse was Paul. Albeit his left arm,
Flesh-wounded, pained him sorely for a time,
With filial care he dressed my battered head,
And wrote for me to anxious friends at home--
But never wrote a letter for himself.
Thinking of this one day, I spoke of it:--
A cloud came o'er his face.
"'My friends,' he said,
'Are here among my comrades in the camp.'
That made a mystery and I questioned him:
He gave no answer--or evasive ones--
Seeming to shrink from question, and to wrap
Himself within himself and live within.
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