Daffodil
Daffodil.
Oh, sweet welsh flower now rest and sleep,
hide your bulbs welsh women weep.
Your men not here they have since gone,
knee deep entrenched in France's Somme.
Welsh valleys, hills, now left behind,
to fight for King and fellow kind.
Oh, yellow flower of David's bloom,
on March 1st in each welsh room.
You let us know that Spring is here,
but men in France are far not near.
They do not see their native flower,
when cannons blast they fear and cower.
In Poppy fields of blood they lie,
where they once fought and then did die.
Oh, sweet welsh flower now rest and sleep,
your yellow blooms for welsh men keep.
Copyright © Brigid Foley | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment