Pinks and syringa in the garden closes <br />And the sweet privet hedge and golden roses. <br />The pines hot in the sun, the drone of the bee; <br />They die in Flanders to keep these for me. <br /> <br />The long sunny days and the still weather, <br />The cuckoo and the blackbird shouting together, <br />The lambs calling their mothers out on the lea; <br />They die in Flanders to keep these for me. <br /> <br />The doors and windows open: South wind blowing <br />Warm through the clean sweet rooms, on tip-toe going, <br />Where many sanctities, dear and delightsome be -- <br />They die in Flanders to keep these for me. <br /> <br />Daisies leaping in foam on the green grasses, <br />The dappled sky and the stream that sings as it passes -- <br />These are bought with a price, a bitter fee -- <br />They die in Flanders to keep these for me.<br /><br />Katharine Tynan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/high-summer-2/
