'Twas upon a barricade in the street
With guilty blood polluted, but made clean
Again with pure blood, that a child of twelve
Was seized 'midst men with weapons in their hands.
'Art thou of these?'—The child said, 'Yes, I am.'
'Good!' said the officer, 'thou shalt be shot:
Await thy turn.' Then blinding flashes past,
And his companions fell beneath the wall,
While he looked on. 'Permit me that I go'—
Thus to the officer at last he said—
'And to my mother in our house, give back
This watch of hers.'—'Ah, thou wouldst fly?'—'Not so,
I shall return.'—'These children of the street
Are cowards, after all. Where lodgest thou?'—
'Down there beside the fountain. Let me go,
I shall come back, "Monsieur le capitaine."'—
'Be gone, thou rogue.'—And the child scampered off.
Clumsy deceit, gross cunning of a boy!
And all the soldiers with their captain laughed,
And with the laughter mixed the rattle hoarse
That issues from the throats of men that die;
But the laugh ceased, for sudden he returned
