AN ALLEGORY by Barcroft Boake — While The Billy Boils

The fight was over, and the battle won.A soldier, who beneath his chieftain's eyeHad done a mighty deed and done it well,And done it as the world will have it done—A stab, a curse, some quick play of the butt,Two skulls cracked crosswise, but the colours saved—Proud of his wounds, proud of the promised cross,Turned to his rear-rank man, who on his gunLeant heavily apart. 'Ho, friend!' he called,'You did not fight then: were you left behind?I saw you not.' The other turned and showedA gaping, red-lipped wound upon his breast.'Ah,' said he sadly, 'I was in the smoke!'Threw up his arms, shivered, and fell and died.