Where lies the gift

With harrow disc and mouldboard plough,                             Calloused hands and furrowed brow, In leather traces and iron beast, From dawn's hurrah till sunlight ceased, The land lay tilled on harvest's plane, And backs were broke with little gain, Legacied values true and loyal, Carved in dust from soldier's soil, Passed by blood through generations, A centurion's shield - determination, I stand before those faces hard, And bear the mantle's heavy guard, Lain down the guilt and sword amoral, Adorned my head with angel's laurel, Journeyed north and to the south, East and west and here about, Dare look inside and find the worth, More precious than the wealth of earth.