Pilgrims

by Robert Service For oh, when the war will be overWe’ll go and we’ll look for our dead;We’ll go when the bee’s on the clover,And the plume of the poppy is red:We’ll go when the year’s at its gayest,When meadows are laughing with flow’rs;And there where the crosses are greyest,We’ll seek for the cross thatContinue reading “Pilgrims”