“Grass”
Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Shovel them under and let me work-
I am grass; I cover all.
and pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?
I am the grass.
Let me work
by Carl Sandburg
Todd,
Here is a poem I learned in grade school. It is a tribute to the fallen in World War I with a theme similar to Carl Sandberg’s prose. It is titled:
In Flanders Fields
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
— Lt.-Col. John McCrae (1872 – 1918)