Page:Flower of youth, poems in war time, Tynan, 1915.djvu/13

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THE LOWLANDS OF FLANDERS
11

The Lowlands of Flanders,
Their rivers run so red.
But I must say Good-bye, my dear,
My only dear, I said.


For now I must go sailing
Upon the stormy main;
Good-bye, good-bye, my only Love,
Till I shall come again.


I put her white arms from me,
Her cheek was cold as clay.
The night that I was married
No longer I might stay.


Our bugles they are blowing,
And I must sail the sea,
For the Lowlands of Flanders
Betwixt my love and me.