FLANDERS FIELD.

New Zealand Tablet, 4 July 1918, Page 17

FLANDERS FIELD.

The guns are silent on Flanders Field, — On Flanders Field, where thund'rous pealed The merciless voice of war; Green is the grass, and the daisies grow On the gory sod where foe met foe, And Moloch gathered his score. The clouds have drifted from Flanders Plain,— On Flanders Plain peace falls again, And the hosts of war have passed ; There is fragrance in the summer breeze, And bird-song rings from the shattered trees That bowed to the battle blast. There's many a cross on Flanders Field, — On Flanders Field what hearts are sealed 'Neath many a hallowed mound ! The wind breathes many a mother's prayer Over the loved ones sleeping there, Till the last roll-call shall sound. ~v^ The day is dying on Flanders Plain, — On Flanders Plain the field of pain Grows red in the setting sun ; The brave are wrapt in the arms of night. And peace is theirs who have fought the fight, For the goal of rest is won. —"Cylas." Christchurch.