Poem by Ruth Carey
The flags are flying, the banners waving,
the men are weeping, over by the wall.
They are full of memories,
All the dead soldiers. The flags are flying, the pennants flowing,
the men are crying, by the parade ground.
O why do they cry;
All the dead soldiers. Who will cry with them. All the dead soldiers. Who will weep for them. All the dead soldiers. Who can know their grief. Only dead solders.
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