Claire V. Bogdanos

I hear the sound of marching feet

The drums of war do loudly beat

The peal of bells does emanate

While throngs distressed paticipate.

I hear the sound of ramparts roar

There bides no glory in a war

Mass explosions and missiles flare

While cries of sorrow fill the air.

I hear the sound of shuffling feet

The muted call of last retreat

What good was all this killing for

I pray we go to war no more !