Our rustic community had almost gone mad,
When one among us, had gone to war not so glad;
Children, like soldiers, soon took to toy army flights,
And demonstrated as though jumping from sky heights…

He, a groom, and his bride, then, just merrily wed,
Tears, like torrents of long rains, they did truly shed;
Each member, like sticks of brooms, tightly tied, they knew,
Their pains, like flowers of fall, away soon they threw…

They knew soldiers on the border were like wheat chaff,
Any time by storms of change, they could be blown off;
Yet far, like forest flowers, spouses dried each day,
Though in minds and hearts for each other they did pray…

Even when he’s brought home in a box of honor,
Did the folks discern war’s a romantic murder?