Will no one count the fallen tears
Or are they more than numbers tell?
Of battles won and lost in fears,
Of warriors who nobly fell?

May no one measure blood's dull worth,
Of valour spent and sown and spilled?
Of crimson in the greedy earth
Tomorrow to be sorrow-tilled?

Shall no one scent the sweat of toil,
Of men and women left behind?
Of stones to lay in spirit turmoil,
To woe of heart fore'er consigned?

Can anyone see hope to come,
A story sorcelled in a seed?
What will it take at last for some
to make it true, the world be freed?