We called them 'Army', gave them 'uniform':
They fought, to feed us, the dirt, the dark, the storm.
And shall we now deny the soldiers' due?
Oh, Oh, Britannia, this is not like you!
They sowed their all, these ladies of the loam:
Pray let them take some little harvest home.
March 18, 1945
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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