The saddest year since Christ was born—
And those who battle in the snow
All anxious-eyed look for the morn—
The morn when wars shall be no more,
The morn when Might shall cease to reign,
When hushed shall be the cannons' roar
And Peace shall rule the earth again.
As we from far survey the fray
And strive to succor those who fall,
Let each give thanks that not today