Seemed past our picket tossed
With wild hair streaming in his face—
“We’re lost—we’re lost—we’re lost.”
“Front, front—in God’s name—front!” he cried:
“Our ammunition’s gone!”
He turned a face of dazed dismay—
And through the night sped on!
“Men, follow me!” cried McIlrath,
Our acting Sergeant then;
And when he gave the word he knew