Colin F. Jones


Shall we see again the daisies in the meadows
Where now the shell holes pepper-pot the green;
Where sadder memories lurk among the shadows
And the crimson stains have faded from the stream?
Will the pheasants return again to search the sedges
Reappearing with the dragon fly and seed;
Watched by majestic eagles from the ledges,
When the early morning rabbits tend to feed?
Shall we see the war smoke clearing from the valleys
When no longer we must go to fetch the dead;
When peace returns to count the battles’ tally
And we no more must live in fear and dread?
Shall we see them then, the buttercups and daisies
Or will all life, from this Hell’s place, have fled.