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O!  Slip in between!  The Dukes of Darkness,
In this cold part of the year!

The Baron of Night!
The Baron of Wind!
The Baron of Seeds!

When the Copper Trumpet
Bells out, bright and clear!

And men brood the quiet,
Men who have sinned,
And recall their dark deeds.

Is it fear that breeds guilt,
Or is it guilt, that breeds fear?

I don't know!

O!  Find ways beneath!  The cloud-bearing, bronzed skies
In November, in the chill!

O, Brother, my brother!
And father of three,
A brother who reads!

In your hoary books
In the depths of your beer

Do you find solace,
And does Peace draw near?

I don't know!

There is a wondrous calling
When the falling flakes of snow
Come skirling through the afternoon
And bless me as I go,

And that calling's to remember,
All the ordinary men,
Who fought, December to December
That the world might live, again.

All the men who stopped a bullet,
All the men who fired one
And the women who remember one
They will not see again!

O!  Arrive today!  Returners home!
Who have lived days without cheer!

The untitled men!
The bakers and smiths!
The prayers of creeds!

Is it faith that bred courage,
Or courage that bled deeds?

I don't know!

(written with a grateful thanks, to all the Vets, to my father, 2nd Lieutenant, Douglas Fairchild, USMC, Col. Earl Hinners, Seaman Guy Hudson, and Master Sergeant Lendelle Adams, who have all gone on, now)

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