Solomon in all his Glory

STILL I see them coming, coming, In their ragged broken line, Walking wounded in the sunlight, Clothed in majesty divine.

For the fairest of the lilies, That God's summer ever sees, Ne'er was clothed in royal beauty Such as decks the least of these.

Tattered, torn, and bloody khaki, Gleams of white flesh in the sun, Raiments worthy of their beauty, And the great things they have done.