"Thirty"
In Loudoun on East Market Street,
Fixed to a column of concrete,
Our
Glorious Dead is what is said,
On plaque of brown, large but discreet.
It was the War to End All Wars.
These noble men who joined the corps,
Fought to protect. Did they suspect,
That they would see their home no more?
To face the guns or face disease,
On native land or overseas,
They heard the call. They paid it all.
No more to fight, they rest at ease.
Though thirty names are on the sign,
Three names were placed beneath the line.
Of white and black, all on this plaque,
Though segregated on the shrine.
When sun goes down, plaque hides in shade,
But in the storms, it is not swayed.
Through snow and rain, it will remain.
These thirty names must never fade.
