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WITHIN my heart I hear the cry Of loves that suffer, souls that die, And you may have no praise from me For warfare’s vast vulgarity; Only the flag of love, unfurled For peace above a weeping world, I follow, though the fiery breath Of murder shrivel me in death. Yet here I stand and bow my head To those whom other banners led, Because within their hearts the clang Of Freedom’s summoning trumpets rang, Because they welcomed grisly pain And laughed at prudence, mocked at gain, With noble hope and courage high, And taught our manhood how to die. Praise, praise and love be theirs who came From that red hell of stench and flame, Staggering, bloody, sick, but still Strong with indomitable will, Happy because, in gloomiest night, Their own hearts drummed them to the fight. |