The smell of steaming hide and soaking leather,
The muttered oath,
The sharp command as troops give way to right,
Then clatter on through mud and streaming weather.
The creak and groan of wheels,
And batteries that rumble down the road
With pound and splash of hoof and chains a-rattle,
The driver’s spurring chirp,
The tugging as the mules take up the load,
And ’bove it all the roar of distant battle.