We Marched to War


Exchanging blood by snowy peaks we marched
In thick of war; Families of Kensing had lined
quiet at the door. Once mourned, now pictured, stood
The only man to fight: Stole across the land did he,
Unpleasant, aye. An unfettered tear, came
Only stillness in his soul; and upon
A cliff o’reaching sea; which dealt a wild blow.
He dropped his horse. He leaped and stood aghast:
His lands, his lakes; his house? The empty shell
A black burnt pomegranate where only
He could tell. His wife, his kids, family,
Forgotten by the way.
He took his sword, reigned his horse, entranced,
And marched away.

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