Mametz Wood

A flash of colour upon an oak tree’s trunk

Welch flag painted there

Not long ago

Red Dragon high

Where shells once fell

And guns and blood stained bayonets

Did their work

To fill a hundred cemeteries.


This tranquil landscape of the Somme

Shines in the Indian summer sun

A mellow fruitfulness Gentle cattle, Ploughed fields,

Rolling down land and wooded rivers

Still green on this October morn.

The Sunday chasseurs stalk the ground

Their dogs at heel.

The memories do not fade

Tears still falling

Year on year.


Monday, October 29, 2007