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Children
of
the
Camp
are
we
,
Serving
each
in
his
degree
;
Children
of
the
yoke
and
goad
,
Pack
and
harness
,
pad
and
load
.
See
our
line
across
the
plain
,
Like
a
heel-rope
bent
again
,
Reaching
,
writhing
,
rolling
far
,
Sweeping
all
away
to
war
!
While
the
men
that
walk
beside
,
Dusty
,
silent
,
heavy-eyed
,
Can
not
tell
why
we
or
they
March
and
suffer
day
by
day
.
Children
of
the
Camp
are
we
,
Serving
each
in
his
degree
;
Children
of
the
yoke
and
goad
,
Pack
and
harness
,
pad
and
load
!