Old champions from battles surrendered;
Designs for a world that was lost;
Shed hopes that were one time engendered;
‘Fore any had tallied the cost.

Tis common that clashes, forgotten;
And purges by sands, are erased;
Gray generals’ dreams unbegotten;
And rout leaves ambition defaced.

Yet time has a manner of blurring;
And boneyards of thought do relive;
Ideas once consumed, they are stirring;
Not caring the dead to forgive.

They lingered in towers a ’shining;
The ancients who always abide;
Through long quiet years they sat ‘pining;
Awaiting the next rising tide.

The frosts of war’s winters are melting;
The elders emerge free of scorn;
Again the vile weapons are smelting;
Dismissing that millions still mourn.