A March

By Charles Kingsley

Dreary East winds howling o'er us;

Clay-lands knee-deep spread before us;

Mire and ice and snow and sleet;

Aching backs and frozen feet;

Knees which reel as marches quicken,

Ranks which thin as corpses thicken;

While with carrion birds we eat,

Calling puddle-water sweet,

As we pledge the health of our general, who fares as rough as we:

What can daunt us, what can turn us, led to death by such as he?

Eversley, 1848.