Post by BereniceUK on May 21, 2017 7:38:57 GMT
Ringed by crimson heather I lie
In the heart of the wide flung moor.
No sound is heard save the blackcock's cry
Or the nesting curlew's plaintive lure.
Whilst high above in sapphire sky
Like drifting smoke float cloudlets pure.
And I who come from heart of Hell
Where reigns a ceaseless moan of pain,
Mid' roar of cannon and shriek of shell
Do bless the wide moors peaceful reign,
Its touch of infinite peace which fell
With healing on my fevered brain.
"RED DAWN."
(Yr Adsain, 25th September 1917)
In the heart of the wide flung moor.
No sound is heard save the blackcock's cry
Or the nesting curlew's plaintive lure.
Whilst high above in sapphire sky
Like drifting smoke float cloudlets pure.
And I who come from heart of Hell
Where reigns a ceaseless moan of pain,
Mid' roar of cannon and shriek of shell
Do bless the wide moors peaceful reign,
Its touch of infinite peace which fell
With healing on my fevered brain.
"RED DAWN."
(Yr Adsain, 25th September 1917)