Here's to the boy with the broken shield,
Face down in the mud
Of the battlefield—
The poet cries.

Here's to the boy that is hewn apart,
Time-frozen eyes
And a silent heart—
He'll bleed no more.

Here's to the boy that is dressed a man;
The sword held unsure
In his lifeless hand
Was futile here.

Here's to the boy with an angel's face,
Furrowed with fear
And the cold embrace
Of never-dawn.

And here's to the boy with no dirgeful band
To see him gone
To the pleasant land
Of Avalon.