Permission to reproduce in this book.
THE nightingales of Flanders,
They had not gone to war;
A soldier heard them singing
Where they had sung before.
The earth was torn and quaking,
The sky about to fall;
The nightingales of Flanders,
They minded not at all.
At intervals we heard them
Between the guns, he said,
Making a thrilling music
Above the listening dead.
Of woodland and of orchard
And roadside tree bereft,
The nightingales of Flanders
Were singing "France is left!"
