Amid the Fields
Amid the fields on either
hand
The sturdy English churches
stand,
Four-square towers and
stumpy spire’s
Guardians of the English
Shires;
Their watch of centuries
they keep
O’er souls awake and
souls asleep.
All England’s tale lies
written here
Upon each tomb and knightly
bier.
There, amid the leaning
stones,
Lie humble folk and noble
bones.
Their mortal clay lies in
the sod,
Their souls have long
returned to God.
The battle standards handed
on
By those who fought and now
have gone,
To those who tread their
paths above
And carry on the work of
love.
Amid the fields on either
hand
The sturdy English churches
stand;
Norman nave and Saxon roof
Stronghold of eternal
truth.
Doomsday towers and
ministering priest
Proclaim and guard eternal
peace.
Patricia Maltby