We shall call it unnecessary day,

No death was needed on this day,

When reckless hatred held its sway,

Thus, we do call it Unnecessary Day,

Recalling now the lost unknown,

And dying with holding empty hands,

And dogs will howl,

To tell the tale of how those death accounts remit,

And widows weeped and children wailed for fathers lost and washed away,

And by the counting tally told,

Marked every proud and desperate soul,

Until the toll grew higher up,

above in towers higher grown, And numbered more than towers saw than towers did by looking down,

This day shall be commemorate,

In solemn memories consoled,

As never mortals comprehend,

By hearts and ears when told of it,

As mankind stood nearby a gulf and child-like looked into itself,

Near to the fall like

Lycidas,

Which angels will look homeward now,

or ever can be blamed for this?

So silence was the angels’ words,

For none can speak in our Defense,

For we have none at our own deaths,

And, so this day not be forgot,

Which true oblivion with woe begot.

-Albert Turner Goins, Sr.