And now the silence falls,
When blood red poppies rain.
This grieving heart once more recalls,
The anguish and the pain.
But where amid this shower let’s that solitary bloom,
For which this lonely widow cries beside the martyr’s tomb.
There in this bright vermilion storm,
This clustered crimson mass.
That remiss neither name nor form,
But silently slips pass.
And still the gentle petals come,
To mark the bitter loss for each father, brother or son.
But where the love I lost have with me in splendid pageantry,
This regimental plan, can I remember quality my ordinary man.
Author Unknown.