I lay my weary head down,
Beside the murmuring stream.
Like it never happened,
Like it was just a dream.
No time to take my boots off,
No time for me to preen.
I just lay me down,
Amid the verdant green.
Warm there in that hollow,
The rain began to fall.
To thin the red of war,
And dim its awful pall.
Sweet to my nostrils,
The honeysuckle came.
As I lay there dying,
In the honeysuckle rain.
I dreamed of my comrades,
Who gave their lives in vain.
On the ridge that morning,
Air heavy with pending pain.
I awoke to brilliant sunlight,
And morning birds' refrain.
The sleep of night had saved me,
And the honeysuckle rain.
Copyright 2003 © Ronald W. Hull
5/10/03