The Battlefield

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This page last updated on 04/17/2017.

Copyright 2001-2017 by Russ Meyer


They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,
Like petals from a rose,
When suddenly across the June
A wind with fingers goes.
They perished in the seamless grass, --
No eye could find the place;
But God on his repealless list
Can summon every face.

            - Emily Dickinson