Classic Poem

The nightingales of Flanders,
They have not gone to war.
A soldier heard them singing
Where they had sung before.

The earth was torn and quaking,
The sky about to fall.
The nightingales of Flanders,
They minded not at all.

At intervals he heard them
Between the guns, he said,
Making a thrilling music
Above the listening dead.

Of woodland and of orchard
And roadside tree bereft,
The nightingales of Flanders
Were singing, France is left !