The Price of War Lyrics

Spectral forms in visions of the night
Come, bringing sorrow with their vain delight

For vain it is when one
Thinks that great joy is near
And, passing through his hands, the dream is gone
On gliding wings, that bear

The vision far away on paths of sleep
Such woes were felt at home
Upon the sacred altar of the hearth
and worse than these remain for those who roam

The urn of bronze that keep
The dust of those who sleep

Yea, sorrows pierce the heart
For those who from his home he saw depart

Each knoweth all too well
And now, instead of warrior's living frame
There cometh to the home where each did dwell
The scanty ashes, relics of the flame