In Flanders and in France the poppies bloom Blood-bright; and from the crimson pits where hell Roared his red laughter golden bees resume Their dark industrial bass; and like a bell Of silver flame the lark shakes heaven down; Wheels turn; the harvests burst the bins apart; The dead men have their sleep and their renown; And peace broods with her hand upon her heart. We strap wings to our shoulders, plot the poles, Lift living voices from the air, explore, Build, break, rebuild, drive bargains, sell our souls, Call in our loans and calculate the war. ... Ten years ago we gave the heart's red stuff; Ten years ago we could not give enough. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS AND THE POET (FOR SARA TEASDALE) by LOUIS UNTERMEYER PATIENCE TAUGHT BY NATURE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING BALLAD OF THE GOODLY FERE by EZRA POUND THE BLOOD HORSE by BRYAN WALLER PROCTER TWO SONNETS FROM NEW YORK: QUESTIONS by ADELAIDE NICHOLS BAKER CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: TO THE READER by WILLIAM BASSE |