Never a wink shall I sleep till I know our vengeance
was duly fulfilled."
Fiercely the orderly rode down the slope of the
corn-field--scarred and forlorn,
Rutted by violent wheels, and scathed by the
shot that had plowed it in scorn;
Fiercely, and burning with wrath for the sight
of his comrades crushed at a blow,
Flung in broken shapes on the ground like
ruined memorials of woe:
These were the men whom at daybreak he knew,
but never again could know.
Thence to the ridge, where roots outthrust, and
twisted branches of trees
Clutched the hill like clawing lions, firm their
prey to seize.
"What's your report?"--and the grim colonel
smiled when the orderly came back at last.
Strangely the soldier paused: "Well, they were
punished." And strange his face, aghast.
"Yes, our fire told on them; knocked over fifty--
laid out in line of parade.
Brave fellows, colonel, to stay as they did! But
one I 'most wish had n't stayed.
Mortally wounded, he'd torn off his knapsack;
and then at the end he prayed--
Easy to see, by his hands that were clasped;
and the dull, dead fingers yet held
This little letter--his wife's--from the knapsack.
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