Rhymes of a Red Cross Man

<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"></SPAN></p> <br/> <h2> Tri-colour </h2> <p><i>POPPIES,</i> you try to tell me, glowing there in the wheat;<br/> Poppies! Ah no! You mock me: It's blood, I tell you, it's blood.<br/> It's gleaming wet in the grasses; it's glist'ning warm in the wheat;<br/> It dabbles the ferns and the clover; it brims in an angry flood;<br/> It leaps to the startled heavens; it smothers the sun; it cries<br/> With scarlet voices of triumph from blossom and bough and blade.<br/> See the bright horror of it! It's roaring out of the skies,<br/> And the whole red world is a-welter. . . . Oh God! I'm afraid! I'm afraid!<br/> <br/> <i>CORNFLOWERS,</i> you say, just cornflowers, gemming the golden grain;<br/> Ah no! You can't deceive me. Can't I believe my eyes?<br/> Look! It's the dead, my comrades, stark on the dreadful plain,<br/> All in their dark-blue blouses, staring up at the skies.<br/> Comrades of canteen laughter, dumb in the yellow wheat.<br/> See how they sprawl and huddle! See how their brows are white!<br/> Goaded on to the shambles, there in death and defeat. . . .<br/> Father of Pity, hide them! Hasten, O God, Thy night!<br/> <br/> <i>LILIES</i> (the light is waning), only lilies you say,<br/> Nestling and softly shining there where the spear-grass waves.<br/> No, my friend, I know better; brighter I see than day:<br/> It's the poor little wooden crosses over their quiet graves.<br/> Oh, how they're gleaming, gleaming! See! Each cross has a crown.<br/> Yes, it's true I am dying; little will be the loss. . . .<br/> Darkness . . . but look! In Heaven a light, and it's shining down. . . .<br/> God's accolade! Lift me up, friends. I'm going to win&mdash;<i>MY CROSS.</i><br/></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />