Go tell the Spartans
All stayed until made to go
Lest even one soul were let down
There was no curtain drawn
No noble bugle sounding
Nor riotous rally of the troops
But a single day, a quiet one
Unremarkable in human annuals
It came and went insidiously
In its wake and preservation
There came a cold phantom
Gilded by guilt still surviving
Gone on to another world
One known, once thought so
Now forever gone to wander
Did that rustic world perish
Or did the ones returning die
Nostalgia succumbing equally
Go tell it to the Spartans
The field has kept its grasp
Upon the sodden spirit there
No one survives the aftermath
The sick, the lame, or the able
All carried upon shields in the end