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Percy
William Alexander Percy
1885-1942

 
"Poppy Fields"

France, 1918

 

 
You say this poppy blooms so red
Because its roots were daily fed
On last year's cold and festering dead?

Such is the blessed way of earth;
Oblivious, intent on mirth,
To turn rank death to gorgeous birth!

Even this brutal agony,
So hideous, so foul, will be
Romance to others, presently.

And would it not be proud romance
Falling in some obscure advance
To rise, a poppy field of France?

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