The Battle

Ah, never, never, never! for the flag
Is twined about my body, and my back
Is braced against the wall! I know the lack
Of crust and water, and a man might brag
For fighting thus, yet--how a soul may lag,
For want of just so little, when the rack
Of hopeless strife from dawn to bivouac
Finds the foe now who storms the utmost crag.

Never surrender! You who storm my heart
Till I am faint with love and hunger, all
Starved for your lips--how can I say “depart”?
And yet--drag up the sword again--and thrust!
Ah, Love, mine enemy--I will not fall
Until my honour’s flag and I are dust.