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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Blood-Red Fourragere</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">What was the blackest sight to me<br>Of all that campaign?<br>A naked woman tied to a tree<br>With jagged holes where her breasts should be,<br>Rotting there in the rain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On we pressed to the battle fray,<br>Dogged and dour and spent.<br>Sudden I heard my Captain say:<br>&quot;Voil&agrave;! Kultur has passed this way,<br>And left us a monument.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So I looked and I saw our Colonel there,<br>And his grand head, snowed with the years,<br>Unto the beat of the rain was bare;<br>And, oh, there was grief in his frozen stare,<br>And his cheeks were stung with tears!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then at last he turned from the woeful tree,<br>And his face like stone was set;<br>&quot;Go, march the Regiment past,&quot; said he,<br>&quot;That every father and son may see,<br>And none may ever forget.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, the crimson strands of her hair downpoured<br>Over her breasts of woe;<br>And our grim old Colonel leaned on his sword,<br>And the men filed past with their rifles lowered,<br>Solemn and sad and slow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But I'll never forget till the day I die,<br>As I stood in the driving rain,<br>And the jaded columns of men slouched by,<br>How amazement leapt into every eye,<br>Then fury and grief and pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And some would like madmen stand aghast,<br>With their hands upclenched to the sky;<br>And some would cross themselves as they passed,<br>And some would curse in a scalding blast,<br>And some like children cry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea, some would be sobbing, and some would pray,<br>And some hurl hateful names;<br>But the best had never a word to say;<br>They turned their twitching faces away,<br>And their eyes were like hot flames.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They passed; then down on his bended knee<br>The Colonel dropped to the Dead:<br>&quot;Poor martyred daughter of France!&quot; said he,<br>&quot;O dearly, dearly avenged you'll be<br>Or ever a day be sped!&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now they hold that we are the best of the best,<br>And each of our men may wear,<br>Like a gash of crimson across his chest,<br>As one fierce-proved in the battle-test,<br>The blood-red Fourragere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For each as he leaps to the top can see,<br>Like an etching of blood on his brain,<br>A wife or a mother lashed to a tree,<br>With two black holes where her breasts should be,<br>Left to rot in the rain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So we fight like fiends, and of us they say<br>That we neither yield nor spare.<br>Oh, we have the bitterest debt to pay. . . .<br>Have we paid it? -- Look -- how we wear to-day<br>Like a trophy, gallant and proud and gay,<br>Our blood-red Fourragere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508714" data-title="The Blood-Red Fourragere de Robert William Service" data-description="What was the blackest sight to me
Of all that campaign?
A naked woman tied to a tree
With jagged holes where her breasts should be,
Rotting there in the rain.

On we pressed to the battle fray,
Dogged and dour and spent.
Sudden I heard my Captain ..."></div>
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