A Captain in Iraq

A Captain in Iraq looked out, on the Feast of Stephen,
Dead men lay strewn round about, deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night, though the air was cruel,
When a soldier came in sight, seeking men to duel.

"Hither, soldier, stand by me, if you know it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?"
"Sir, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain,
Let's shoot him dead from o'er the fence; watch the claret fountain."

"Bring me rounds and bring me mines, bring me rifles hither,
You and I will see him die, when we bear them thither."
Man and Captain, fired they did, fired they did together,
From the peasant's sight well hid, shielded from the weather.

"Sir, the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger,
Fails my heart, I know not how; I can go no longer."
"Mark my footsteps, my good man, tread now in them boldly,
You shall find true soldiers can, spill foes' blood more coldly."

In his Captain's steps he trod, where the spilt blood curdled;
Heat leaving the lifeless sod, who they had just murdered.
"Therefore, fighting men", he said, "health and rank possessing",
"Those who now will bless the dead, shall themselves find blessing."