The short hour's halt is ended, <br />The red gone from the west, <br />The broken wheel is mended, <br />And the dead men laid to rest. <br />Three days have we retreated <br />The brave old Curse-and-Grin – <br />Outnumbered and defeated – <br />Fall in, my men, fall in. <br /> <br />Poor weary, hungry sinners, <br />Past caring and past fear, <br />The camp-fires of the winners <br />Are gleaming in the rear. <br />Each day their front advances, <br />Each day the same old din, <br />But freedom holds the chances – <br />Fall in, my men, fall in. <br /> <br />Despair's cold fingers searches <br />The sky is black ahead, <br />We leave in barns and churches <br />Our wounded and our dead. <br />Through cold and rain and darkness <br />And mire that clogs like sin, <br />In failure in its starkness – <br />Fall in, my men, fall in. <br /> <br />We go and know not whither, <br />Nor see the tracks we go – <br />A horseman gaunt shall tell us, <br />A rain-veiled light shall show. <br />By wood and swamp and mountain, <br />The long dark hours begin – <br />Before our fresh wounds stiffen – <br />Fall in, my men, fall in. <br /> <br />With old wounds dully aching – <br />Fall in, my men, fall in – <br />See yonder starlight breaking <br />Through rifts where storm clouds thin! <br />See yonder clear sky arching <br />The distant range upon? <br />I'll plan while we are marching – <br />Move on, my men - march on!<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fall-in-my-men-fall-in/
