Maybe half the town of Baldwyn, now of great or little worth,
Found this healer waiting for them when they came upon the earth;
This undecorated soldier, of a hard, unequal strife,
Fought in many stubborn battles with the foes that sought their life.
In the nighttime or the daytime, he would rally brave and well,
Though the summer lark was singng or the fall leaves fell;
Knowing if he won the battle, they would praise their Maker's name,
Knowing if he lost the battle, then the doctor was to blame.
'When so many pined in sickness he had stood so strongly by,
Half the people felt a notion that the doctor would never die;
They must slowly learn the lesson how to live from day to day,
And have somehow lost their bearings-now that this landmark has gone away.
But perhaps it still is better that his busy life is done;
He has seen his patients disappearing, one by one;
He has learned that Death is master both of science and of art;
He has done his duty fairly and has acted out his part.