History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived but if faced with courage, need not be lived again. - Maya AngeloTo the memories of our past
Who are patient and who wait,
True and faithful to the last,
For Easter morning sky,
When wrong's rock shall roll away
From the sepulcher of right,
And the right shall rise again
In the brightness of a light
That shall never fade away.
Beneath my feet ten thousand dead-
Oh! How I loved each known and nameless one!
Above their dust I bow my crownless head
and murmur; Father, still thy will be done
Ah! Father, Thou didst deck my own loved land
With all bright charms, and beautiful and fair;
But Foeman came, and with a ruthless hand
Spread ruin, wreck, and desolation there.