> > FREEDOM ISN'T FREE: > > > > I watched the flag pass by one day. > > It fluttered in the breeze. > > A young Marine saluted it, > > and then he stood at ease. > > I looked at him in uniform > > So young, so tall, so proud, > > He'd stand out in any crowd. > > > > I thought how many men like him > > Had fallen through the years. > > How many died on foreign soil? > > How many mothers' tears? > > How many pilots' planes shot down? > > How many died at sea? > > How many foxholes were soldiers' graves? > > No, freedom isn't free. > > > > I heard the sound of taps one night, > > when everything was still > > I listened to the bugler play > > And felt a sudden chill. > > I wondered just how many times > > That taps had meant "Amen," > > When a flag had draped a coffin > > Of a brother or a friend. > > > > I thought of all the children, > > Of the mothers and the wives, > > Of fathers, sons and husbands > > With interrupted lives. > > > > I thought about a graveyard > > At the bottom of the sea > > Of unmarked graves in Arlington.. > > No freedom isn't free. > > > > By Ron Lago > > > >