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Words by Judith Weinshall Liberman
Music by Stephen Feig
Copyright © 2012 by Judith Weinshall Liberman

Through the large stone gate I walked,
In the dead of night,
To visit his stone grave once more,
And do so out of sight.

I brought with me a big bouquet
Of flowers he did love:
Daffodils and poppies, too,
For me to place above

His grave, to let him know how much
I miss him every day,
And will miss him until I die,
And love him come what may.

I had been there time and again,
But never in the dark.
I did not know how to locate
His grave. I saw no mark.

There were so many graves around,
All topped by big white stones.
I wondered: Did white represent
The fallen soldiers' bones?

Or did the white stones indicate
The soldiers' innocence?
They were so young when they were killed.
They never had a chance.

I walked between rows of white graves.
They all looked the same,
And in the dark I could not read
Inscription, date or name.

But did it matter, then I thought,
Just where indeed I stop?
All the young men buried there
Were the cream of the crop

Of the dear land for which they fought
And shed their blood, and then
Became the fathers, brothers, sons,
Whom we mourn to the end.

I stopped at a white grave beside
The long stone path I took,
But in the dark I could not read
The name, though I did look.

I placed my flowers on the grave
And cried and said a prayer
For all the soldiers now interred
Who for us did care

Enough to give up all they had.
They left us here to cry
Over the losses we sustained
When each of them did die.

Ask not what grave your dear one has
In that big field of stone,
Where our soldiers lie entombed,
Each of them all alone.

For they're all ours, yours and mine.
They did all in their power.
So cry for all and say a prayer
And lay at least a flower.