Day is almost done;
Loose the cumbrous knapsack,
Drop the heavy gun:
Chilled and wet and weary,
Wander to and fro,
Seeking wood to kindle
Fires amidst the snow.

Round the bright blaze gather,
Heed not sleet nor cold,--
Ye are Spartan soldiers,
Stout and brave and bold:
Never Xerxian army
Yet subdued a foe,
Who but asked a blanket
On a bed of snow.

Shivering midst the darkness
Christian men are found,
There devoutly kneeling
On the frozen ground,--

Pleading for their country,
In its hour of woe,--
For its soldiers marching
Shoeless through the snow.

Lost in heavy slumbers,
Free from toil and strife;
Dreaming of their dear ones,--