Shouting out to those who adopted kids,
Sincerely apologies to those who went through miscarriages.
I cannot forget those who carried a child nine months,
Those who gave birth prematurely. ...
DEAD, with their eyes to the foe,
Dead, with the foe at their feet;
Under the sky laid low
Truly their slumber is sweet,
Though the wind from the Camp of the
Slain Men blow,
And the rain on the wilderness beat.
