Alive as Mosby in mountain air.
His limbs were long, and large and round;
He whispered, winked—did all but shout:
A healthy man for the sick to view;
The taste in his mouth was sweet at morn;
Little of care he cared about.
And yet of pains and pangs he knew—
In others, maimed by Mosby’s crew.
The Hospital Steward—even he
(Sacred in person as a priest),