SONG OF WAR
Sing me once more
the old songs of war
that we marched too –
ran to, sang to…
with rifles slung, and joyous
along the lanes and byways
that summer we enlisted,
when we joined our chosen Corps…
Before the bloody war.
Sing to me once again
with the innocence of callow youth
fresh faced young warriors
who know not…
the sound of battle,
the screams of the wounded and dying,
the smell of stale sweat and blood
or the enveloping stench of death.
Sing to me Comrades. Sing!
Sing softly to me Comrades
of gardens of stone
in the foreign places
with names of those gallantly fallen…
far from home and hearth,
far from love, family
and the familiar fields of home…
in endless gardens of stone.
Not forgotten but forever immortal
in granite, in marble and bronze.
Their song is in granite and bronze.
©Copyright May 2005 by Mike Subritzky