In a quiet river valley, Lies a green and peaceful place, Where warriors come to rest, Having honorably met their fates.
No more do they stand the watch, Their worthy service donen, They've passed their duties on To other Fathers' sons.
Yet flying high above them, On silent wings spread wide, Soars freedom's embodiment, And a country's sign of pride.
The mighty Eagle watches o'er all And guards their well-earned rests. For he like they, knows the feel, Of Freedom in his chest.
And though he does his best to guard, The fallen warriors' sleep. Still at times he grows so weary, And must rest his wings a-beat.
So slowly he glides his way, To where the fallen rest, And there he bides his time a bit Among the honored Vets.
And though he knows no words, Of the valiant warrior's speech, Still they communicate, In a way that words can't reach.
Having communed with those who lie, Among the rows of stone, The Eagle takes to flight again, And resumes his post alone.
In endless soaring circles, He surely makes his rounds. Guarding the fallen heroes, Who make this hallowed ground.
Copyright 2011 by Jack Cook