On the Centenary of the Battle of the Somme - the Flowers of the Forest

Waving poppies, ruffled by the summer breeze, look up At the deep sky and warm sun, pillows of clouds gentle Contrast to the green below and the scattered red faces With soul black eyes. Children’s voices ring like distant bells, The sounds of happiness and the pleasures of life, undisturbed By thoughts of harm. But the flowers of the forest have no arching sky above Only cold shadows and pools of dark water, with wriggling Worms the only life. No laughing children lift the heart And bring a happy smile, the distant bells a sombre cadence That tolls for thee. No bright poppies shine in this decaying World, only their soul black eyes. And the lone piper plays his sad lament for The Flowers of the Forest.