y's cavalry by night
Along the line of river prowled, and sought
To dash across and raid in Maryland.
Three regiments guarded miles of river-bank,
And drilled alternately, and one was ours.
Off picket duty, alike in fair or foul,
With knapsacks on and bearing forty rounds,
From morn till night we drilled--battalion-drill--
Often at double-quick for weary hours--
Bearing our burdens in the blazing sun,
Till strong men staggered from the ranks and fell.
Aye, many a hardy man in those hard days
Was drilled and disciplined into his grave. Arose
Murmurs of discontent, and loud complaints
Fell on dull ears till patience was worn out
And mutiny was hinted. As for Paul
I never heard a murmur from his lips;
Nor did he ask a reason for the things
Unreasonable and hard required of him,
But straightway did his duty just as if
The nation's fate hung on it. I pitied Paul;
Slender of form and delicate, he bore
The toils and duties of the hardiest.
Ill from exposure, or fatigued and worn,
On picket hungered, shivering in the rain,
Or sweltering in full dress, with knapsack on,
Beneath the blaze of the mid-summer sun,
He held his spirit--always still the same
Patient and earnest, sad and silent Paul.

"We posted pickets two by two. At night,
By turns each comrade slept and took the watch.
Once in September, in a drenching storm,
Three days and nights with neither tent nor fire
Paul and a comrade held a picket-post.
The equinox raged madly. Chilling winds
In angry gusts roared from the northern hills,
Dashing the dismal rain-clouds into showers
That fell in torrents over all the land.
In camp the soldiers crouched in dripping tents,
Or shivered by the camp-fires. I was ill
And gladly sought the shelter of a hut.
Orders were strict and often hard to bear--
Nor tents nor fire upon the picket-posts--
Cold rations and a canopy of storms.
I pitied Paul and would have called him in,
But that I had no man to take his place;
Nor did I know he took upon himself
A double task. His comrade on the post
Was ill, and so he made a shelter for him
With his own blankets and a bed within;
And took the watch of both upon himself.
And on the third night near the dawn of day,
In rubber cloak stole in upon the post
A pompous major, on the nightly round,
Unchallenged. All fatigued and drenched with rain,
Still on his post with rifle in his hand--
Against a sheltering elm Paul stood and slept.
Muttering of death the brutal major stormed,
T