From Dover Beach to Arlington

Which covers all,

And sucks summer

Through their teeth:

These benighted youth who

Gave their lives

For what they thought

Was true.

They cannot hear

The clink of Champagne glass

Nor the chuckles of the wealthy few

For whom, to sate their

Pampered whims, they died and

For all the elder statesmen and

Tail-wagging sycophants who lied.

And always in the morning

More bugle calls to fight

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