The loveliest moonlit night of all
When one might hear a teardrop fall.
And, there, a soldier was laid to rest
His arms enfolded on his breast.
Who ever he was –a brave man died
A wife back home with sorrow cried.
I see him, awkward in his youth-
Then marching as a proud man should
I see him standing by the gate
His fortune but a whim of fate.
If he could speak, what would he say
That, once, a boy would ‘soldiers’ play?
‘-Enjoy what time you have, my friend
Who can foretell how things might end.’
The soldier’s debt good men must pay
A mother’s heart was broke that day.