The morning mist and fog had made
The view surreal and cold,
But nothing could conceal the feel
Of all the whispering souls.
Amid the din if pounding hearts,
Of cannon, sword and gun,
Stood soldiers, people just like us
Whose time to fight had come.
So long ago the pulsing drums,
The blare of bugles yell,
So long ago that none are left,
No memories live to tell.
I walked the ground of those who died
And wished with every step
Not to tread upon the spot
Where wounded lay while mothers wept.
I felt the whispering souls grow faint
As I turned to walk away,
Thankful that I couldn't hear
Their pleas for me to stay.
Written in 1991 on my first visit.