Glory

We stand in honor to applaud;

The words and symbols we laud.

Images made from words,

Like sweet, magnificent birds,

Wing'd and soaring to heights;

Lofty and inspiring flights,

Casting down upon the field,

That muddy bloody shield,

'neath which lie the fallen men,

The soldiers honored, of spoken.

How can we ever know,

We who stand in the glow,

Of the Glory they reflect -

They the dead we recollect,

The truth they could bring,

The tolling the bell could ring,

If the words were spoken -

Not in memorial, a token -

But by the men silent lain,

The devoted, the honored slain?