O, Slip In Between the Dukes of Darkness

O! Slip in between! The Dukes of Darkness, In this cold part of the year! The Baron of Night! The Baron of Wind! The Baron of Seeds! When the Copper Trumpet Bells out, bright and clear! And men brood the quiet, Men who have sinned, And recall their dark deeds. Is it fear that breeds guilt, Or is it guilt, that breeds fear? I don't know! O! Find ways beneath! The cloud-bearing, bronzed skies In November, in the chill! O, Brother, my brother! And father of three, A brother who reads! In your hoary books In the depths of your beer Do you find solace, And does Peace draw near? I don't know! There is a wondrous calling When the falling flakes of snow Come skirling through the afternoon And bless me as I go, And that calling's to remember, All the ordinary men, Who fought, December to December That the world might live, again. All the men who stopped a bullet, All the men who fired one And the women who remember one They will not see again! O! Arrive today! Returners home! Who have lived days without cheer! The untitled men! The bakers and smiths! The prayers of creeds! Is it faith that bred courage, Or courage that bled deeds? I don't know! (written with a grateful thanks, to all the Vets, to my father, 2nd Lieutenant, Douglas Fairchild, USMC, Col. Earl Hinners, Seaman Guy Hudson, and Master Sergeant Lendelle Adams, who have all gone on, now)