Once
crimson poppies bloomed
1 Once crimson poppies bloomed
out in a foreign
field,
each memory
reminds
where brutal
death was sealed.
The crimson
petals flutter down,
still hatred
forms a thorny crown.
2 For in this present time
we wait in vain
for peace,
each generation
cries,
each longing for
release,
while war still
plagues the human race
and families
seek a hiding place.
3 How long will human life
suffer for human
greed?
How long must
race or pride,
wealth,
nationhood or creed
be reasons
justifying death
to suffocate a
nation’s breath?
4 For everyone who dies
we share a quiet
grief,
the pain of loss
remains,
time rarely
brings relief,
and so we will
remember them
and heaven sound
a loud amen.
Andrew Pratt (born
1948)
The
tune LITTLE CORNARD is commended for this text
©
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