The Price of Peace
The brave young man came home, proud and glad.
Combatting truculent enemies,
The only end stoking his courage.
Rain and snow, heat and thirst, broke him not
Duty-bound, defensive, undaunted,
He soldiered on until he succumbed.
As he lay still, wrapped in a pale shroud,
Tricolour. . . Victory. . . Motherland . . .
His final words echoed in glory!
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