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Songs of War and Peace
'Twas a weary day of marching in the sun, 'Neath a chafing weight of haversack and gun,
And we heard the roar of fight,
As we dragged into the night, Wicked, thirsty, hungry, dusty, gray and dun.
Words were few, and barely mutteredó
Not a kindly one was uttered, But we halted, near the morning, in the dark, Where torn and tumbled heapings, black and stark,
The awful driftings lay,
Swept down from yesterday. Now, with the light, comes back the fight, And blaze and smoke shut out that sight.
Mad clash, and clang, and rattle,
The hum and roar of battle, And the swinging, and the ringing of cold steel, Men are dying 'neath the war-god's iron heel, The bullets whizz and spatter, whirr and whine,