2
O maidens and young men I love and
that love me,
What you ask of my days those the
strangest and sudden your talking
recalls,
Soldier alert I arrive after a long march
cover'd with sweat and dust,
In the nick of time I come, plunge in the
fight, loudly shout in the rush of
successful charge,
Enter the captur'd works—yet lo, like a
swift-running river they fade,
Pass and are gone they fade—I dwell not
on soldiers' perils or soldiers'
joys,
(Both I remember well—many the hardships,
few the joys, yet I was
content.)
But in silence, in dreams' projections,
While the world of gain and appearance
and mirth goes on.
So soon what is over forgotten, and
waves wash the imprints off the
sand,
With hinged knees returning I enter the
doors, (while for you up there,
Whoever you are, follow without noise
and be of strong heart.)
Bearing the bandages, water and sponge,
Straight and swift to my wounded I go,
Where they lie on the ground after the
battle brought in,
Where their priceless blood reddens the
grass the ground,
Or to the rows of the hospital tent, or
under the roof'd hospital,
To the long rows of cots up and down
each side I return,
To each and all one after another I draw
near, not one do I miss,
An attendant follows holding a tray, he
carries a refuse pail,
Soon to be fill'd with clotted rags and
blood, emptied, and fill'd again,
I onward go, I stop,
With hinged knees and steady hand to
dress wounds,
I am firm with each, the pangs are sharp
yet unavoidable,
One turns to me 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.