<p> All along the ramparts,<br /> Flags were flown of white. <br /> In honor of the men<br /> Who held steady through the night.<br /> <br /> And as the crowd cheered <br /> And the royal trumpets blew, <br /> A spirit of kinship <br /> The White City had anew.<br /> <br /> Petals of The White Tree<br /> Fell down upon the run<br /> Where the stalwart soldiers<br /> Rode under the sun.<br /> <br /> And as the men were riding by,<br /> One of them turned his head,<br /> And on his face a forlorn <br /> Expression spread.<br /> <br /> His face was that of sorrow.<br /> His face was that of pain.<br /> I knew there was nothing left<br /> To him still unmundane.<br /> <br /> The men showed no excitement <br /> At the crowd about them still.<br /> Nothing worldly anymore <br /> Would needs of theirs fulfill.<br /> <br /> For so often was the case,<br /> And so often will be:<br /> Many must die inside<br /> So many more are free.<br /> <br /> A vision then I saw <br /> Of a world true and pure<br /> No fighting ever scarred<br /> anybody to be sure.<br /> <br /> The spirits were at rest, <br /> The damned souls were free,<br /> Everything in the world <br /> Was in perfect harmony.</p><p><br /> </p>
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