All morning rang the gardens where grew the roses sweet <br />With sound of drum and bugle, and tramp of marching feet; <br />And each man plucked a blossom as he went his onward way, <br />And gaily bloomed the roses in their caps on Minden Day. <br /> <br />But many a flower was faded ere sank the summer sun, <br />And many a man lay gasping before that day was done; <br />When the ranks of foot charged madly on mounted squadrons gay, <br />The rose of merry England was in the van that day, <br /> <br />The foemen see and wonder: their staggering squadrons reel, <br />Flung back ere yet they know it, before that wall of steel. <br />But many a crimson blossom on the ground all trampled lay, <br />For men fell like leaves in Autumn on glorious Minden Day.<br /><br />Cicely Fox Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/minden-day/
