A Triumph of Order

ASOUAD of regular infantry,
In the Commune’s closing days,
Had captured a crowd of rebels
By the wall of Père-la-Chaise.

There were desperate men, wild women,
And dark-eyed Amazon girls,
And one little boy, with a peach-down cheek
And yellow clustering curls.

The captain seized the little waif,
And said “What dost thou here?”
“ Sapristi, Citizen captain !
I ’m a Communist, my dear ! ”

“Very well! Then you die with the others!
“Very well! That’s my affair!
But first let me take to my mother,
Who lives by the wine-shop there,

“ My father’s watch. You see it,
A gay old thing, is it not ?
It would please the old lady to have it,
Then I ’ll come back here, and be shot.”

“ That is the last we shall see of him,”
The grizzled captain grinned,
As the little man skimmed down the hill,
Like a swallow down the wind.

For the joy of killing had lost its zest
In the glut of those awful days,
And Death writhed gorged like a greedy snake
From the Arch to Père-la-Chaise.

But before the last platoon had fired,
The child’s shrill voice was heard!
“ Houp-la ! the old girl made such a row
I feared I should break my word.”

Against the bullet-pitted wall
He took his place with the rest,
A button was lost from his ragged blouse,
Which showed his soft, white breast.

“ Now blaze away, my children !
With your little one — two — three ! ”
The Chassepots tore the stout young heart,
And saved Society!