To Gibson's Sister

I just read your brother's comment below, and it came to my attention that you are currently in Iraq.

There is not much I can offer accept my thanks, and my prayers. Just know that, even if the story is not told in the papers of today, your courage and sacrifice will ring true through all the proud and protected generations to follow. This time of blood and toil will be remembered as one of America's finest hours. You are, and will be, honored.

When the oldest cask is opened,
And the largest lamp is lit;
When the chestnuts glow in the embers,
And the kid turns on the spit;
When young and old in circle
Around the firebrands close;
When the girls are weaving baskets,
And the lads are shaping bows;

When the goodman mends his armour,
And trims his helmet’s plume;
When the goodwife’s shuttle merrily
Goes flashing through the loom;
With weeping and with laughter
Still is the story told,
How well Horatius kept the bridge
In the brave days of old.