Not fraught with death and havoc the campaign We wage today amid the blind and slain. Not through a no-man's-land, a thousand hells Weird-hued, of smoke and fire and murderous shells -- The scourging thunders of the battlegame, All the fierce lightnings of a world aflame; No, not through these stunned fields, these craters hoarse With bloody wreckage lies today our course. Ours is a simple part: the duty born Of human fellowship for hearts forlorn; Of love and gratitude for those who dared Intrepidly all hazards; those who shared Buddy to buddy, comrade good with ill. Today we bear the flag of high good-will. "Forget-Me-Not!" the very blossoms say As through the Meuse-Argonne they lead the way. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A REPUBLICAN FRIEND, 1848 by MATTHEW ARNOLD WASHING-DAY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD AN ANATOMY OF THE WORLD: THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY by JOHN DONNE THE QUESTION by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON THE SLAVE'S DREAM by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 38 by EDWARD TAYLOR MARGARET FULLER by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT |