young believers passing by
the bloody emblem of our foes
strongly we led
bravely we die
the anxious dead
will not deny
us
they; the cause
they come behind
a silent mist of voices
the bodies lie where they are found
their spirits rise above the ground
to whisper forth: our liberty!
is worth all deaths and tears
is worth the ash-scarred sky
beyond the blackened trees
(I believe this is the result of reading John McCrae's poetry, a variety of nonfiction about world war II, and a bunch of dystopian science fiction concurrently. I don't recommend the mixture)
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