Now that there is no turning
stand you here with me
Here where the poppies wave
onward to horizon's edge
soothing now the senseless rage
on this Field of Sorrows
Here where the last wise words
are lost on the brittle wind
Here where the weave of life
rises from the fecund soils
fed by the blood of warriors
on this Field of Sorrows
What cold God strode this land
bending mortals to his will
Here where the scouring winds
bleeding the languid rivers dry
race toward the morning
on this Field of Sorrows
A wild sea of eager rifles
once flashed in a morning sun
Here where bleached bones
of those who lived and loved
lie here in forlorn memory
on this Field of Sorrows
Now that there is no turning
stand you here with me
Bow your head in prayer
to this lost generation
who never saw the sun set
on this Field of Sorrows
