The Soldier
stood before the Captain of the Guard
The wounded
lay between the living and the dead
The
battlefield was marked by stains of blood from war
Now only
memories follow those still left on shore.
Their graves
are marked with epitaphs on marbled stone,
And every year
the tears still fall in silent groans
The Purple
Heart was his, not ours to hold with pride
He is the hero
in the grave who fought and died!
The Captain of
the Guard then spoke in accent clear
“Where did
you go when bugle called to face the foe?”
One Soldier,
trembling answered, that he ran away
He was afraid
of fatal wounds or scars that day.
Just then
there flashed across the Eastern sky, a Cross,
The scars of
Battle could be seen on hands and side
The Captain
bore those wounds in love for you and me
So through His
death enslaved mankind could be set free.
We are the
Soldiers that are called to fight the Foe
It is for each
to use the Sword while here below
The question
that disturbs and moves my heart by far
Is what we'll
tell Him if we have no wound or scar!
--B. Pent
1 comment:
Beautiful Poem, Papa! I love you :)
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