I tried to write some words of praise,
amidst this act of war,
to hold our people’s heads up, proud
of the fallen forty-four.
I tried but then I tried in vain
to find the right words for
the brave and selfless sacrifice
of the fallen forty-four.
They followed blindly, ordered on—
onto and through the door—
The door that shut, as coffins do,
on the fallen forty-four.
The misencounter they misjudged
as standard job, no more,
ended in eternal rest
for the fallen forty-four.
These words don’t have the same effect
as Tennyson’s “Charge” before,
But I write to join the Nation’s mourning
of the fallen forty-four.