More than a hundred years have gone away
And none now live who fought then and there
Though a few still linger who fought there later
Their own struggles remembered but not honored
As their grandchildren's children wave the flags of their foes
If there is a place from which they look on
Moldering in the grave as the high hopes they voiced
An end to all war because they saw the end of war
Rot alongside them but leave not even bones
It cannot be a place of joy or peace
Would that they had been right
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