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