IT seemed to be but chance, yet who shall say <br />That ’t was not part of Nature ’s own sweet way, <br /> <br />That on the field where once the cannon’s breath <br />Laid many a hero cold and stark in death, <br /> <br />Some little children, in the after-years, <br />Had come to play among the grassy spears, <br /> <br />And, all unheeding, when their romp was done, <br />Had left a wreath of wild flowers over one <br /> <br />Who fought to save his country, and whose lot <br />It was to die unknown and rest forgot?<br /><br />John Kendrick Bangs<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/may-30-1893/
