The Battlefield
They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,
Like petals from a rose,
When suddenly across the June
A wind with fingers goes.
They perished in the seamless grass, –
No eye could find the place;
But God on his repealless list
Can summon every face.
This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 28th, 2010 at 7:29 pm and is filed under poem. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
