Now all is through, the battle is over,

 The en’my retreated and gone.

 The faint bugle calls still heard from afar;

In the distance the fifes and drums.

 

Nearly all is still – deathly still,

 Silence itself reigns supreme.

Yet that silence does not sound as ‘tis,

The loudness of it is so foreign. . .

For all the sounds, the sounds of war

Are so deeply imprinted upon us:

The roars of the cannons, the shells exploding,

The cries of those who are down.

 

The sacrifice of human life is immense,

 Let not any man take it for granted.

 For though one may say,

“Well, oh yes, this is war,”

The price cannot so be lessened.

All these men, now lost to the world –

Each a mother’s son, a sister’s brother,

A cherished life, loved.

 

And so many a young man, his life before him –

To have his life’s exploits thrown away!

The glory of the victory almost vanishes

As we see all these men lying cold, dead,

For even triumph oft cannot measure up

To the great cost of which will not be forgotten.

 

But to quote the great leader Jackson,

Remember, “Tomorrow is a new day”.

It brings anon a new hope,

And with this thought we continue life.

And yes, life will bring more battles,

But this terrible war will end,

And we will return, home, to our loved.