The Prize

When did you get so tired and old?

When did the life run from your eyes?

Gone are your plans; daring and bold

You’ve lost so much – chasing the prize

Your shoulders bear a bending head

From battles you’ve fought hard and long –

And lost; the men you set are dead

Your Cause once Sure now seems all wrong 

You’ve seen fields washed in blood and rain

Now your eyes are emptied with each shallow breath

The people who praised and boasted your name

Now shun you, and curse you, calling for death

When did you get so tired and old?

When did the life run from your eyes?

White is the hair that once was gold

Harsh is the bloody man’s demise.