The fight was over, and the battle won
A soldier, who beneath his chieftain-s eye
Had done a might deed and done it well,
And done it as the world will have it done-
A stab, a curse, some quick play of the butt,
Two skulls cracked crosswise, but the colours saved-
Proud of his wounds, proud of the promised cross,
Turned to his rear-rank man, who on his gun
Leant heavily apart. -Ho, friend!- he called,
-You did not fight then: were you left behind?
I saw you not.- The other turned and showed
A gapping, red-lipped wound upon his breast.
-Ah,- said he sadly, -I was in the smoke!-
Threw up his arms, shivered, and fell and died.