A man accidentally goin' up soon,
Heard spoken above him as often as twice
The very same word in a very weak voice,
"Higher!"
And not far, I believe, from quarter of seven—
He was slow gettin' up, the road bein' uneven—
Found the stranger dead in the drifted snow,
Still clutchin' the flag with the motto—
Higher!
Yes! lifeless, defunct, without any doubt,