"An American Requiem" by Johnny-Crow



 

For the lone forsaken trooper who stands his ground alone,

Silent is the blowing of the once resounding horn,

No screaming of the dying, the battle music still,

For angels had their glory, the combatants their fill,

It matters not their reason, their politics their path,

A hundred rifles screaming for the final aftermath,

Blue or Grey or Redman, are to legend cold and still,

 Gaze and hear their whispers when you’re standing on the hill.