No one but God beholds the field
Where our keen wars are fought
The clash of wrong and right concealed
On battlegrounds of thought
No fellow-soldier cheers us on
Though skirmishes are rough
Our battle is beheld by One
And yet, that is enough
The aftermath of mind-fought wars
Tenders its casualties
Into the crypt of Time before
Immortal victories
No pennants of fair fame applaud
Our fetes fervid and grand
Thought-valor is beheld by God
Our trophy in His hand
For none but He beholds the plain
Where conflicts wage and groan
As demon-enemies are slain
And armies overthrown
The medal of thought-honor gleams
Not from podium or shelf
But as our kind Captain esteems
The battle-ground of self
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!