The sun sets low upon this field of woe,
Where years have bled like wounds upon the ground.
What joy, what youth, what dreams I’ll never know...
All buried beneath the war drum’s hollow sound.
Alone I tread where death his banner spread,
The soil yet warm with blood of friend and foe.
Around me lie the brave, the silent dead...
Yet in my soul, thy voice begins to grow.
Thy letters, worn and pressed against my chest,
Were stars that lit my path through the darkest nights.
Yet time stole more than life from those who rest
It robbed the bloom of love - the heart’s delight.
Upon this hallow’d field where brave men fell,
I stand alone with the breath of war now still.
The smoke ascends like ghosts with tales to tell
As silence weeps upon the crimson hill.
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