A Price So Dear
Where are you going, little boy fair?
With dancing eyes and flaxen hair.
You've games to play, and rhymes to say,
With never a worry, or shadow, or care.
The brook and meadow calls to you.
Birds are singing, wild voices ringing,
As pirate ships collide,
Or kings with knights in armor stem the tide.
You've games to play and rhymes to say,
With never a worry or care.
But always at days end, to home,
And empty pockets of treasures borne,
To sleep the rest of youthful bliss.
We mark these days, and passing, mourn.
O' where are you going soldier blue?
The fife and drum are calling you.
You've left your boyhood games behind.
No more playing, no more rhymes.
It's war you'll see, and death, and blood.
A sergeant's call, "to the line!"
No glory there, only carnage and mud.
Now where do they carry my boy so frail?
With hollow face, so still, so pale.
A flag is draped upon his bier.
A bugle calls for all to hear.
A life is taken.
A son is taken.
A price so dear.
A stillness lies,
An empty chair,
Silence now upon the stair.
Silent now, the brook and meadow,
Setting sun, and growing shadow,
A vision clear,
In my minds eye and ear,
His face, his voice, his mirth,
Memories dear.
Where are you going, little boy fair?
With dancing eyes and flaxen hair.
You've games to play, and rhymes to say,
With never a worry, or shadow or care.
MJS
9/03
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