The hills and fields roll with blades of green;

Dotted, by white marble stones standing in silence;

Glistening in midnight dew.

Under the stars there will be,

A congregation of the sorrowful, strong, and few.

Those who accepted their nations call.

For Arlington House calls to them all.

 

From the thundering guns of Stafford Heights,

To the blistering heat of old Afghan nights.

Mothers and Fathers, Brothers, Sons, and Daughters.

Here they come to rest.

The Crusaders and Protectors; Templars and Defenders.

All are heroes of a nation

For Arlington Houses only the best.

 

There, in the silence;

Through warm and cold, rain and shine,

They lay row by row by row.

For many it was a consequence;

A price to pay for their service.

The rest found comfort after years of fighting.

All are welcomed home; to Arlington House.