Classic Poem

His father, once a sergeant, was poor and old and gray,
For he had fought in 'eighty-eight, was old then, you might say.
And now he farmed a bit of ground his daily bread to gain
And had around him children nine, the youngest one was Sven.

That old man Duva had himself enough of brains to share
Among a brood as large as his, one hardly could declare.
He surely gave the elder ones too much of his small wit,
For to the son that last was born was left the tiniest bit.

Sven Duva grew up just the same, was strong and broad of chest,
Toiled like a slave in field or wood with unremitting zest,
Was willing, gay, and kind of heart, far more than clever folk,
Would turn his hand to anything, but was in all a joke.

" In gracious heaven's name, poor son, what can you ever be? "
The old man often said to him in sad perplexity.
But when such talk would never end, Sven Duva's patience failed,
At last he set his head to work for all that it availed.

So one fine day it chanced when Sergeant Duva cooed again
The old unanswered song: " What will become of you, my Sven? "
The old man started backward in astonishment, because
" I'll be a soldier, " said the son, and spread his uncouth jaws.

The aged sergeant smiled a smile full of contemptuous doubt:
" You rascal, take a gun and be a soldier? Oh, get out! "
" Well, " said the lad, " I make a botch of all I take in hand;
Perhaps I'll find it easier to die for king and land. "

Old Duva was surprised and touched, a tear rolled down his face;
And Sven — he shouldered knapsack for the first recruiting-place.
Full-size they found him, brisk and strong; 't was all they asked, and he
Became forthwith a raw recruit in Duncker's company.

And now came Duva's time to drill and go through exercise,
To watch him was a wondrous sight; he drilled in curious wise.
The corporal might shout and laugh, might laugh and shout his best,
The new recruit went on alike for earnest or for jest.

When all the rest were tired out, he never seemed to fret.
He tramped until the ground would quake, and marched till all a-sweat;
But when the order came to turn, 't was his unhappy lot,
To face to right or face to left, whichever he should not.

Then he was taught to " shoulder arms, " and taught to " ground arms, " too,
" Present arms, " " level bayonets, " — all these they thought he knew;
When " Shoulder arms! " was called, he 'd " level bayonets " maybe,
At " Ground arms! " up his gun went to his shoulder instantly.

So finally Sven Duva's drill grew famous far and wide,
The officers and soldiers came and laughed until they cried;
But still he kept on patiently, untroubled by a doubt,
And waited for a better time — 't was then the war broke out.

When orders were to break up camp, the question had to come,
Had Duva wit enough to fight or should he stay at home.
He listened calmly to their plans, but soon proposed his own:
" If I can't go with all the rest, I'll have to go alone. "

They left him gun and knapsack then to do his own behest,
A soldier he when battle raged, a servant for the rest;
As fighting-man or serving-man, alike sedate and cool,
He never played the coward, though he sometimes played the fool.

One day with Sandels in retreat, the Russians on each flank,
Our troops were drawing slowly back along a river bank.
Right in the army's line of march a little foot-bridge spanned
The stream, and there an outpost stood, scarce twenty in the band.

Merely to mend the broken road this band was sent ahead,
Which done, far off from shot or blow, they rested free from dread.
They happened on a farmer's house and stripped the larder bare,
And Duva passed the victuals round, for he was with them there.

But on a sudden all was changed, for from the near-by steep
With foaming horse an adjutant came spurring leap on leap.
" Get to the bridge, " he shouted, " lads, for God's sake, no delay!
We 've word a troop of enemy would cross and bar our way. "

He bade the leader, " Get the bridge demolished if you can,
And if you can't, well, hold it then, and fight to the last man!
The army's lost if now the foe should take us in the rear.
Sandels will come to your support, he'll soon himself be here. "

He galloped off. But scarce the band had gotten to the bridge
Before platoons of Russians rose above the farther ridge.
They opened ranks, closed up, took aim and fired. At the sound
Of their first volley eight bold Finns went reeling to the ground.

The rest shrank back: why tarry there when nothing could be gained?
Another crash of musketry, and but five Finns remained.
They all obeyed the sergeant's call, " Trail arms! " and then, " Retreat! "
Only Sven Duva got it wrong and levelled bayonet.

Still worse, the order to retreat got twisted in his head,
And, far from facing right about, down to the bridge he sped.
He stood there firm with shoulders squared, quite calm and easy still,
Ready to show to all that came how well he knew his drill.

They did n't give him long to wait, for ere he took his stand,
Behold! upon the little bridge there thronged a hostile band.
Man after man they rushed across, but each as he came on
Got face-to-right or face-to-left, fell over, and was gone.

No human arm was strong enough to make that giant yield,
And when the rear ranks tried to shoot, the front ranks were his shield.
The fiercer was the foe, the more his hope would come to naught,
When up came Sandels with his men and saw how Duva fought.

" Bravo! " he shouted, " fine; keep on, you splendid fellow, you!
Throw every devil off the bridge, hold on, for God's sake, do!
That's how a Finn should fight, ay, that's a soldier you may say.
Come on, boys, hurry to his help! for he has saved the day! "

The enemy soon found themselves checkmated in the game;
The Russians, turning right about, retreated whence they came.
When all was quiet, Sandels left his horse and went to see
The soldier who stood on the bridge and fought so gallantly.

They pointed out Sven Duva then. His battle-lust was gone,
For he had fought there like a man, and now the strife was done.
It seemed as though in weariness he rested after play,
No longer bold and confident, but very pale he lay.

Then Sandels bent him down above that face so white of hue;
No unfamiliar man was that, but one whom all men knew.
But Sandels saw that underneath his heart the grass was red,
His breast was pierced, and through the wound his life by now had sped.

These were the words the general spake: " We 'll all of us admit
That bullet knew far more than we, it knew the place to hit;
It left unhurt the poor lad's head, which was not of the best,
And found itself a worthier mark, his noble, valiant breast. "

And afterwards whenever men would tell about the fight,
They each and every one agreed that Sandels' words were right.
" It's true, " they used to say, " his mind did less than most men's could,
A sorry head Sven Duva had, his heart, though, that was good. "