Classic Poem

Verlorner Posten in dem Freiheitskriege

For more than thirty years I've been defending,
In Freedom's struggle, many a desperate post.
I knew the fight was hopeless, never-ending;
But still I fought, wounded and battle-tossed.

Waking through nights and days, no peaceful slumbers
Were mine while all the others slept their fill.
(The mighty snoring of these valiant numbers
Kept me awake when I was tired or ill.)

In those long nights I have been often frightened
(For only fools are not afraid of fear),
But I would whistle till the terror lightened,
And sing my mocking rhymes to give me cheer.

Yes, I have stood, my musket primed and ready,
On guard; and when some rascal raised his head
I took good aim (my arm was always steady)
And let him have a bellyful of lead.

And yet those knaves — I may as well admit it —
Could shoot quite well; the rascals often chose
A splendid mark, and, what is more, they hit it!
My wounds are gaping . . . and my blood still flows.

One post is vacant! As a bloody token
I wear my wounds . . . another takes my part.
But, though I fall, my sword is still unbroken;
The only thing that's broken is my heart.