Here you will find the Poem A Song of Truce of poet Robert Fuller Murray
Till the tread of marching feet Through the quiet grass-grown street Of the little town shall come, Soldier, rest awhile at home. While the banners idly hang, While the bugles do not clang, While is hushed the clamorous drum, Soldier, rest awhile at home. In the breathing-time of Death, While the sword is in its sheath, While the cannon's mouth is dumb, Soldier, rest awhile at home. Not too long the rest shall be. Soon enough, to Death and thee, The assembly call shall come. Soldier, rest awhile at home.