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I walk where once the grass was green |
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And mourn the lark that sings no more |
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What bird could sing whose eyes have seen |
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Broken blossoms on the field of war? |
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And as they lie there in the sun |
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How unimportant now it seems |
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Just who has lost and who has won |
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When with them have died so many dreams |
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They dreamed that endless hate would end |
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Unceasing fear, one day, would cease |
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They dreamed that foe would turn to friend |
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And eternal war would turn to peace |
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But who can say how many more |
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Will join these young and hopeful men? |
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In fields they've never seen before |
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Far from fields they'll never see again |
