Flanders Field Revisited

Flanders Field Revisited
   (on the Armistice Centenary, Nov 11 2018)

On Flanders field a poet saw 
  Crimson sunspots in his shell-shocked awe,
                  Poppies!
Rise above the shallow graves of no-man’s land,
  Flowers tilled by death’s own hands,
Planted and furrowed by the Kaiser’s Huns,
  Batteries of allied guns,
And up they rose from the charnel grounds,
  Thousands bloody red round bullet wounds

Before the advancing fronts of Spring,
  Above the fire steps they clung,
                  Poppies!
Outnumbering the dead who’s tally
  Too few big push Generals know,
That lost soldiers may find
  Peace to sleep,
Come poppies, lay torn lads
  To sleep

For all war weary, who abide,
  Love’s primeval garden has supplied
                  Poppies!
A blessed sparing balm from Gilead,
  All love’s respite for beloveds who grieve,
And for every war’s worn soldier,
  Caring the same,
We offer poppies
  In their name