Dedicated to the memory of American Soldiers, dead
Many miles from home loved acres
Where the crimson poppies blow
Are thousands of white crosses, side by side.
And it seems the sunlight lovingly above the mounds,
Where sleep the lads who for their country died.
Tread softly, for this place is sacred earth.
Beneath the little mounds are sleeping
Many a mother’s pride and joy.
And all the shining future held of worth.
Yes, we beg that you tread softly,
Don’t disturb the dreamless sleep.
They are the flower of a glorious land.
And if you have a garland to place upon the cross,
Won’t you lay it there with gentle hands?
Fresh tender grass is growing on the hills
Once drenched with blood
The sunlight filters through the bomb scarred trees,
And the fragrance of the wild flowers,
As in the long ago, is wafted on the gentle summer breeze.
Through a shining path of silver,
That the starlight makes each night,
Come the guardian angels of our hero dead.
And the clear pure dew from heaven,
Falls like a sweet caress on the hallowed place
Where they have made their bells.
And we have safely crossed the bridge of strife.
It all will be forgotten on that morning,
When our eyes behold the mountain tops of life.