In vicksburg national burial place of the dead

A silence cradles the land
Voices of the cemetery
Loudly utter, words
Stroking butter

The sound is not
Bland.

The union sleep
Still awake in their beds
The rain never falls
The rain is just as dead

The civil war hasn't ended
Cry the tears of seventeen thousand ghosts
These souls are remembered
By the vows that they took

Sleeplessly haunting
The visitors to their arrival

The dead more than living
Are awake to the grassy place so vital

The war still goes on
Though to us it has ended
These men are still seen in their
Clothing unattended

Their plans ended shortly

Their plans unamended

This place awakes the voices
Of the wars recommended