Some wore a uniform of gray
Some wore the one of blue
They were brothers from north and south
Some were sons and fathers too,

Each one was a soldier
A warrior in a fight
Now they are only ghost
Seen by men with sight,

Once their feet did march
Upon the battlefields grass
Now they are just an image
To be seen within the glass,

Many fell upon the field of battle
Some alone in a place so foreign
Now all that remains of them
Is a face on a sheet of iron,

When I look into the eyes on the faces
Of these men on iron or glass
I see not a ghost
But a man, a soldier from the past,

Though now he be only an image
He was once a soldier that in battle fell
And within each soldiers image
Is held a story he longs to tell.

RLB