Robert W. Service
And there was darkness and despair, grim death on every
hand; Red fields of slaughter sloping down to ruin s black
abyss ; The wolves of war ran evil-fanged, and littte did they
miss. And on they came with fear and flame, to burn and loot
and slay, Until they reached the red-roofed croft, the home of
Jean Desprez.
Rout out the village, one and all! the Uhlan Captain
said. Behold ! Some hand has fired a shot. My trumpeter is
dead. Now shall they Prussian vengeance know ; now shall they
rue the day, For by this sacred German slain, ten of these dogs shall
pay. They drove the cowering peasants forth, women and
babes and men, And from the last, with many a jeer the Captain chose
he ten; Ten simple peasants, bowed with toil; they stood, they
knew not why Against the grey wall of the church, hearing their
children cry ; Hearing their wives and mothers wail, with faces dazed
they stood. A moment only . . . Ready! Fire! They weltered
in their blood.
But there was one who gazed unseen, who heard the
frenzied cries, Who saw these men in sabots fall before their children s
eyes ;
�� �
