Monday, August 15, 2016

The Scourge

They had marched and fought for
Months, with little food to eat.
And several weeks had passed
Since they last had tasted meat.

They marched o'er fallen logs,
And through the powd'ry fresh snow.
Praying the morn to see, along

With sun and its warm glow.

The howling wolf and freezing
Fog, had beckoned in the night;
A time that ev'n hardened men

Must wrestle fits of fright.

That great and mighty men should
Fear, is unbelievable you say.
Yet through fear they pushed on

Through conflict night and day.

Courage, it is said, means not
The lack, but rather, facing fears.
This these men had done, holding

Fast through blood and tears.

"War is a Scourge," we hear is
What the wise men have all said.
They'll be shown right when, in

The morn', our heroes are all dead.

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