A View On Flander's Fields


In Flander's Fields,

The poppies grow,

Between the crosses,

Row on row on row on row.....

 

These are the dead,

Short days ago,

They lived, they breathed,

Felt dawn's warm glow,

 

They fell with their faces to the foe,

A foe that today,

Is friend and ally

 

Their children,

Their children's children,

Fight a new war,

 

And, wearing the red poppy,

Memorial to the fallen,

Themselves fall,

Their faces young,

Facing their new foe.

The End

87 comments about this poem Feed