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Rose Dempsey

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Fields of Glory
by Rose Dempsey → (All Poetry by Rose Dempsey)
Sunday, November 9, 2025    Not rated by the Author.
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WW1 poem

Weep no more for me,
of pain and turmoil, I am free.
No more fear, no hate,
just peace at last where I lay in fields of glory.

I was young and answered my country's call,
Yet along with others I did fall
down in the fields of glory.

My life's blood shed on foreign soil,
an enemy's evil ways to foil.
Yet, they also fell
and perished there
in those fields of glory.

No man should see what I have seen
nor do what I have done,
Yet boys we were and did it all
and now lie in the fields of glory.

Our names are etched on village stones
now seen by none who knew us,
we are not there,
we are long gone unto the fields of glory.

And every year the masses march.
their cadence
echoing on streets where once we walked,
our steps now silent as we walk
in the fields of glory

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 Reviews of "Fields of Glory"
Reviewed by Andy Turner
Reviewed on November 13, 2025
Indeed, aptly said.
I lost my great uncle Oliver 13/10/1915 at the battle of Loos. He was 17. They never found his body so it is a lonely plaque on a wall.

Reviewed by Ronald Hull
Reviewed on November 9, 2025
It was an inglorious slow death drudgery in the trenches where are you might die of disease before stepping on a mine or getting hit by machine gun fire.

My uncle got "shell shock" (PTSD) as a Army medic in an army hospital in South Carolina. He had to help treat men coming back with terrible wounds, battlefield surgery, amputations, and terrible infections that festered on the ships that brought them back. Followed by the Spanish flu epidemic that probably killed many more in the hospital he worked in.

My aunt had to put him in the VA hospital when he became violent later in life.

Ron


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