Retreat in the Rain.
By O.C.A. CHILD.
Those Uhlans now are working in too near,
Their carbines crackle louder every shot.
I say! our chaps a-plodding in the rear
Are getting it--and most uncommon hot!
It's not much fun retreating in the night,
Through all this mess of rain and reeking slime--
It seems to me this boot's infernal tight!
I must have hurt me when I slipped that time.
Whew! that was close and there's a fellow gone!
I know too well that heavy, sickening thud;
It's bitter hard that we must keep right on
And leave our wounded helpless in the mud.
My foot hurts so that I can hardly see--
I'll have to stop for just a breathing space.
What's that? It's blood!--those fiends have got me now!
It's double time and I can't stand the pace!
I'll use my rifle as a crutch. But, no!
I'll stand and fight; they have me sure as day!
It's death for death--then I will meet it so
And make a Uhlan pay the price I pay.
And here they come! Great God, they're coming fast--
Are almost on me! Ah, I got that one!
Just one more shot--a good one for the last!
Those iron hoofs have crushed me--I am done!