The Fields of Old Verdun

It still remains for all to see, for all who care to know

For those of curiosity, for pictures they will show

Or for the contemplation of those who lost a father and/or son

It still remains, that hallowed ground

The mist of morn lies on a field, and coats a crumbling blockhouse wall

Some creatures crawl through hats of steel,

Beneath which, man once stood to fall, no longer feel

A bit of rust and boot still lay, as do the Stones of Flanders

To mark the passing of a day

To shout, in silence of souls no longer young, no longer gay

Now the blockhouse walls are silent, as are they within,

Who once shook the field with thunders roar

Then cried and died, and shook no more

Nor spoke, nor prayed, but withered in the time and wind…

~~~

And now again across the seas, above a jungle’s green

Prevails the din of man in, a field unclean

New hats of steel, new concrete walls, new men to feel, new men to fall

Unmerciful God on High, the sounds below are wretched Earth,

Come down… the time is nigh…

~ Harry Walter Juers