The striking scarlet standard swings so low
Over the blue, broken bodies of men
The sun becomes cold and loses it’s glow
Across the awful, bloodstained fields and fen
The tiny orphans cry and wail so hard
As do the mournful widows and mothers
Whilst they listen to the yarn of the bard
About their lost fathers, sons and lovers
They hear of their loved ones courageous deeds
Upon the sodden, bloody battle fields
And through the perfidious, muddy reeds
Which are now adorned with their swords and shields
And that is where those men now lay at rest
Amongst the red reeds of the marshland’s crest.

J.A McManus

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/amongst-the-red-reeds-a-sonnet/