"The inquisitive mind of a child"
Why are they
selling poppies, Mummy?Selling poppies in town today.
The poppies, child, are flowers of love.
For the men who marched away.
But why have they chosen a poppy, Mummy?
Why not a beautiful rose?
Because my child, men fought and died
In the fields where the poppies grow.
Why not a beautiful rose?
Because my child, men fought and died
In the fields where the poppies grow.
But why are the poppies so red, Mummy?
Why are the poppies so red?
Red is the colour of blood, my child.
The blood that our soldiers shed.
Why are the poppies so red?
Red is the colour of blood, my child.
The blood that our soldiers shed.
The heart of the
poppy is black, Mummy.Why does it have to be black?
Black, my child, is the symbol of grief.
For the men who never came back.
But why, Mummy are you crying so?
Your tears are giving you pain.
My tears are my fears for you my child.
For the world is forgetting again.
Your tears are giving you pain.
My tears are my fears for you my child.
For the world is forgetting again.
Author - Mary Link nee Gilbert
Updated 11/11/2012 - I received the following message today and have changed the "Author Unknown" tag for this poem to Mary Link nee Gilbert
The Message from her Grandchild (name ungiven) reads
"My grandmother Mary Link nee Gilbert is the author of this but sadly we cannot authenticate. She was born Ashford Kent England 1891 and wrote this to answer her sons inquisitive mind. My mother taught this to all of us as children, like I have mine and my grandchildren. A truly remarkable and honest observation. And sadly the world is forgetting again"
Fitting. Thanks for sharing this Pax.
ReplyDeleteGreat poem, Pax. And tell any vets you see that an ole Georgia boy said Thanks and God Bless.
ReplyDeleteWell said, and a toast was said in y'alls honor...
ReplyDeleteVery touching: Because my child, men fought and died
ReplyDeleteIn the fields where the poppies grow. . .
My grandmother Mary Link nee Gilbert is the author of this but sadly we cannot authenticate. She was born Ashford Kent England 1891 and wrote this to answer her sons inquisitive mind. My mother taught this to all of us as children, like I have mine and my grandchildren. A truly remarkable and honest observation. And sadly the world is forgetting again .
ReplyDeleteThank you for clarifying the Author of this lovely poem. I have updated the information and included your message in the main post.
DeleteLest we forget!
Pax