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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=427728" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Rouge Bouquet</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In a wood they call the Rouge Bouquet <br>There is a new-made grave to-day, <br>Built by never a spade nor pick <br>Yet covered with earth ten metres thick. <br>There lie many fighting men, <br> Dead in their youthful prime, <br>Never to laugh nor love again <br> Nor taste the Summertime. <br>For Death came flying through the air <br>And stopped his flight at the dugout stair, <br>Touched his prey and left them there, <br> Clay to clay. <br>He hid their bodies stealthily <br>In the soil of the land they fought to free <br> And fled away. <br>Now over the grave abrupt and clear <br> Three volleys ring; <br>And perhaps their brave young spirits hear <br> The bugle sing: <br>"Go to sleep! <br>Go to sleep! <br>Slumber well where the shell screamed and fell. <br>Let your rifles rest on the muddy floor, <br>You will not need them any more. <br>Danger's past; <br>Now at last, <br>Go to sleep!" </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is on earth no worthier grave <br>To hold the bodies of the brave <br>Than this place of pain and pride <br>Where they nobly fought and nobly died. <br>Never fear but in the skies <br>Saints and angels stand <br>Smiling with their holy eyes <br>On this new-come band. <br>St. Michael's sword darts through the air <br>And touches the aureole on his hair <br>As he sees them stand saluting there, <br> His stalwart sons; <br>And Patrick, Brigid, Columkill <br>Rejoice that in veins of warriors still <br> The Gael's blood runs. <br>And up to Heaven's doorway floats, <br> From the wood called Rouge Bouquet, <br>A delicate cloud of buglenotes <br> That softly say: <br>"Farewell! <br>Farewell! <br>Comrades true, born anew, peace to you! <br>Your souls shall be where the heroes are <br>And your memory shine like the morning-star. <br>Brave and dear, <br>Shield us here. <br>Farewell!"</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Joyce+Kilmer">Joyce Kilmer</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=427728" data-title="Rouge Bouquet de Joyce Kilmer" data-description="In a wood they call the Rouge Bouquet There is a new-made grave to-day, Built by never a spade nor pick Yet covered with earth ten metres thick. There lie many fighting men, Dead in their youthful prime, Never to laugh nor ..."></div> </div> </div>
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