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Not youth pertains to me,

Nor delicatesse, I cannot beguile the time with talk,

Awkward in the parlor, neither a dancer nor elegant,

In the learn’d coterie sitting constrain’d and still, for learning

inures not to me,

Beauty, knowledge, inure not to me — yet there are two or three things

inure to me,

I have nourish’d the wounded and sooth’d many a dying soldier,

And at intervals waiting or in the midst of camp,

Composed these songs.