The first rays of the rosy dawn
Brush o'er the marching warriors brave
The sergeant cries "March on! March on!"
And on they march, their land to save.

The noonday sun beats bright and hot
On armies locked in bitter fray
Each foot of ground is dearly bought
Sold back, and bought again this day.

The gentle twilight shadows fall
On broken forms that moan in pain
But none still stand to hear the call,
The battle done, to no man's gain.

The bloody land is still once more,
The wreckage of a hundred wars,
Chill darkness covers as before
And over all the watchful stars.