| George Herbert Clarke, ed. (18731953). A Treasury of War Poetry. 1917. |
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| 143. A Song |
| | | By Charles Alexander Richmond |
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| OH, red is the English rose, | |
| And the lilies of France are pale, | |
| And the poppies grow in the golden wheat, | |
| For the men whose eyes are heavy with sleep, | |
| Where the ground is red as the English rose, | 5 |
| And the lips as the lilies of France are pale, | |
| And the ebbing pulses beat fainter and fainter and fail. | |
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| Oh, red is the English rose, | |
| And the lilies of France are pale. | |
| And the poppies lie in the level corn | 10 |
| For the men who sleep and never return. | |
| But wherever they lie an English rose | |
| So red, and a lily of France so pale, | |
| Will grow for a love that never and never can fail. | |
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