Shan't you see the smoke
In the battlefield;
The bone that broke
Of the youth who stood steeled?

Shan't you see how against the shock-wave,
Of the very winter of life
Pallid he stood upon his coming grave
An enfeebled-child left in this great strife?

Shan't you be the witnesses,
Of how the fields of dandelions,
Turned to crimson grounds laid with carcasses;
Of how even the dead upon your deed grimaces?

Have you marchers of infamy
That gratify on victory and bloodied bodies,
With prideful flags of blasphemy


Seen how the quivering hand...