He knew her at the hospital, First saw her face among a little group Of faces at a grave when rain was falling, The burial of a nurse, when Elenor's face Was bathed in tears and strained with agony. And after that he saw her in the wards; Heard soldiers, whom she nursed, say as she passed, Dear little soul, sweet soul, or take her hand In gratitude and kiss it. But as a stream Flows with clear water even with the filth Of scum, debris that drifts beside the current Of crystal water, nor corrupts it, keeps Its poisoned, heavier medium apart, So at the hospital where the nurses' hands Poured sacrifice, heroic love, the filth Of envy, anger, malice, plots, intrigue Kept pace with pure devotion, noble work For suffering and the cause. The major helped To free the rules for Elenor Murray so She might recuperate at Nice, and said: "Go and await me, I shall join you there. For in my trouble I must have a friend, A woman to assuage me, give me light, And ever since I saw you by that grave, And saw you cross yourself, and bow your head And watched your services along the wards Among the sick and dying, I have felt The soul of you, its human tenderness, Its prodigal power of giving, pouring forth Itself for others. And you seem a soul Where nothing of our human frailty Has come to dim the flame that burns in you, You are all light, I think." And Elenor Murray Looked down and said: "There is no soul like that. This hospital, the war itself, reflects The good and bad together of our souls. You are a boy--oh such a boy to see All good in me." And Major Petain said: "At least you have not found dishonor here As I have found it, for a lust of flesh A weakness and a trespass." This was after The hospital was noisy with the talk Of Major Petain and his shame, the hand Of discipline lay on him. Elenor Murray Looked steadily in his eyes, but only said: "We mortals know each other but a little, Nor guess each other's secrets." And she glanced A moment at the tragedy that had come To her at Paris on her furlough there, And of its train of sorrows, even now Her broken health and failure in the work As consequence to that, and how it brought The breaking of her passionate will and dream To serve and not to fail--she glanced at this A moment as she faced him, looked at him. Then as she turned away: "There is one thing That I must tell you, it is fitting now, I love and am beloved. But if you come To Nice and I can help you, come, if talk And any poor advice of mine can help." So Major Petain, Elenor Murray walked The Promenade at Nice, arm fast in arm. And Major Petain to relieve his heart Told all the tragedy that had come to him: