The Great War

from A Calendar of Verse, an electronic edition

To a Flower, Blooming on a Battlefield in France

Bloom forth, sweet flower, thou needst never fear

The roar of belching steel that rends the air.

God bids thee speak in language wise and clear

The tender message of His loving care.

By nature's silent baths thou comest from on high

To greet War's chaos with thy beauty's grace,

And bring to earth-lost man's awakening eye

A gleam of light from the dear Father's face.