July the first in history
The year was eighteen-sixty-three
A troubled time, a day of rage
Some farmer’s field that was the stage.
Those men that died that sad sad day
Had such an awful price to pay
While those who lived to fight again
Could have no thought when it would end !
How ideals change we cannot know
For what’s inside we dare not show
But God alone will make that choice
He is our judge, our heart, our voice !
Claire V. Bogdanos 