Eloquent and stable
The onward marching drums.
Notwithstanding mirrored darkness
Of the battles never won.
On the hill and through the mire,
Titans small and weary tread.
Mighty statues, courage dancing,
Deep in trenches…among the dead.
A line of cross unknowing dogs
Jump in and join their master's fate.
Some return with sticks of daggers…
To fire shot through Hades' gate.
They fight a phantomology,
concocted for their cost…
To save an ideology,
That was never really lost.
Divided minds the battleground
that vainly sheds the blood
Of North and South, of men and boys,
who tire in the impartial mud.
O' freedom's fleeting glance may grace
a valiant heart, a patriot face;
But to each it was their dying case.
God bless their woeful plea…
A stubborn child’s our Country,
a babe democracy.
. -Angela De Vere