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He Lies In Fields

he lies in fields of chiseled stone, still at last, but not alone, once but flesh, now mere bone, his battles fought, but war not won; but oh, that laugh! that voice! the gentle touch, could ever one look say so much? a hand forever a child to clutch, echoed in the child grown, in his he holds now safe a son.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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