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| At Rest © 2008 by Ellin Anderson |
| BEAU SANG Ellin Anderson Armed in the manner Of ages gone by, They raise the old banner: "Beau Sang!" they cry, Where farmer and bard Live in anger and pain, Bled like the vineyard And threshed like the grain. Red leaf-buds cling To the trees where they go, The first of the spring, And the last of the snow, Where soldier and standard Were taken in vain: Bled like the vineyard, And threshed like the grain. White fires spark From the hills where they ride, And the storm and the dark Are swirling aside, Where traitor and blackguard Hang dead in the rain, Bled like the vineyard, And threshed like the grain. © 2008 by Ellin Anderson. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be copied or used in any way without written permission from the author.
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