There's a brilliant red and orange sun,
and it's hanging in the sky
just above the misty ground,
reflected by the dew.
A sharply sounding trumpet horn,
as a young swan taking flight,
rousing spirits; tired forms-
-green mounds, stirring slowly.
There's a heavily belting, solid rain,
and it pours down on the earth.
Hard packed surface, red with clay
runs swiftly--blood of Nature.
A brisk alarm from the farthest point
in the oncoming wave of green.
Rushing faster in the race for ground,
rolling over all who oppose.
There's blood on the ground from the myriad of wounds,
mingled with the mud.
Earth and life interchangeable
as the vertical flooding pours down.
Smoke clouds the terrain from a million points
as gunfire fills the air.
Heart piercing screams from every direction-
-dirges for the dying cause.
There's a single man in a pool of blood,
face down in the earth.
As shots ring out to the left and right,
he watches in agony.
As the last drop falls on the drowning earth,
the soldier rises to his feet.
A haunting cry, befitting his land, and detaching from his fear,
Plunging forward with bayonet--dark cloth, dark blood welling forth.
There�s a man before a thousand eyes,
miles from the battle.
His face is a mask of stone,
and a lie sits on his tongue.
And there's a little house on a country lane,
somewhere in the heartland,
crying tears of pain for the loss of a son,
and tears of pride for a hero...
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