England's woods are green to-day; br Every day and all day long br In among the trees do stray br The birds' song and the winds' song. br br Last year's leaves beneath our feet br Light do sigh and soft do stir, br As if they kept remembrance sweet br Of young dead lovers walking there . . . . br br In Flanders' woods on hurrying wings br Every day and all day long br The seeking bullet flies and sings br Thin and shrill its bridal song. br br All the summer leaves are brown, br And all the boughs of summer bare; br And many a gallant lad lies down br With glory for his sweetheart there.