He stood, and in his very dress appeared A desolation, a simplicity, To which the trappings of a gaudy world Make a strange back-ground. From his lips, ere long, Issued low muttered sounds, as if of pain Or some uneasy thought; yet still his form Kept the same awful steadiness--at his feet His shadow lay, and moved not. From self-blame Not wholly free, I watched him thus; at length Subduing my heart's specious cowardice, I left the shady nook where I had stood And hailed him. Slowly from his resting-place He rose, and with a lean and wasted arm In measured gesture lifted to his head Returned my salutation; then resumed His station as before: and when I asked His history, the veteran, in reply, Was neither slow nor eager; but, unmoved, And with a quiet, uncomplaining voice, A stately air of mild indifference, He told in few plain words a soldier's tale-- That in the Tropic Islands he had served, Whence he had landed scarcely three weeks past; That on his landing he had been dismissed, And now was traveling toward his native home. This heard, I said, in pity, "Come with me." He stooped, and straightway from the ground took up, An oaken staff by me yet unobserved-- A staff which must have dropt from his slack hand And lay till now neglected in the grass. Though weak his step and cautious, he appeared To travel without pain, and I beheld, With an astonishment but ill-suppressed, His ghostly figure moving at my side; Nor could I, while we journeyed thus, forbear To turn from present hardships to the past, And speak of war, battle, and pestilence, Sprinkling this talk with questions, better spared. On what he might himself have seen or felt He all the while was in demeanor calm. Concise in answer: solemn and sublime He might have seen, but that in all he said There was a strange half-absence, as of one Knowing too well the importance of his theme But feeling it no longer. Our discourse Soon ended, and together on we passed In silence through a wood gloomy and still. Up-turning, then, along an open field, We reached a cottage. At the door I knocked. And earnestly to charitable care Commended him as a poor friendless man, Belated and by sickness overcome. Assured that now the traveler would repose In comfort, I entreated that henceforth He would not linger in the public ways, But ask for timely furtherance and help Such as his state required. At this reproof, With the same ghastly mildness in his look, He said, "My trust is in the God of Heaven, And in the eye of him who passes me!" The cottage door was speedily unbarred, And now the soldier touched his hat once more With his lean hand, and in a faltering voice, Whose tone bespake reviving interests Till then unfelt, he thanked me; I returned The farewell blessing of the patient man, And so we parted. Back I cast a look, And lingered near the door a little space,