Ballade Of Vanishing Wild Flowers Poem by Jan Struther

Gone is the Gentian from the hill;
Gone is the Wind-flower from the glade;
Fritillary and Daffodil
Have perished by the ruthless spade.
But now these infidels shall raid
The meadows and the woods no more:
The flowers shall send their own crusade-
Come, let us wage a holy war!
You Flags, unfurl! You Bugles, shrill!
Leap, Shieldfern, from your tranquil shade!
You, Military Orchis, drill
The Water-soldiers' stout brigade!
Midsummer-Men with gold cockade,
March on, while high the Rockets soar!
Wake Robin, wake, and lend your aid-
Come, let us wage a holy war!
With verdant weapons we shall kill:
With Spearwort and with Two-Way-Blade.
Bold Arrowhead shall try his skill;
Clubmoss and Cleavers, unafraid,
Shall smite the vandals who invade
The haunts of Dwale and Hellebore.
Loose Strife! Lest England's beauty fade,
Come, let us wage a holy war!
Envoy
Lady, whose Fingers oft have made
Magic to succour and restore,
Upon us be your Mantle laid-
Come, let us wage a holy war!