Esther Barry

(Finchley, London)

On The Somme

The noise of the battle is over
And silence descends on the land
There's peace on the face of that soldier
We see lying there on the sand
No sound from those pale lips are uttered,
Or flicker from eyelids half-closed,
Blonde hair blowing soft in the chill wind
As if for a painting, he'd posed,
Where did you come from young soldier?

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