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Forgotten
There is a wordWhich bears a swordCan pierce an armed man.It hurls its barbed syllables,—At once is mute again.But where it fellThe saved will tellOn patriotic day,Some epauletted brotherGave his breath away.
Wherever runs the breathless sun,Wherever roams the day,There is its noiseless onset,There is its victory!
Behold the keenest marksman!The most accomplished shot!Time’s sublimest targetIs a soul ‘forgot’!