Too many fall before their time
Into the distance crosses by the line
In shady fields their souls now rest
The young and brave who faced the test
In foreign lands so far from home
They bore their task with great aplomb
Above the earth where now they lay
A bugle calls their final day
In times to come we may yet see
Their sacrifice did not need to be
When words unheard become the sword
A bleak sad future we march toward
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 